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THE 



COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISIL 



OTHER POEMS, 



HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 



BOSTON: 
TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 

M DCCO LIX. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 

MENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



CAMBRIDGE: 
KLECTROTTPED AND PRINTED BT METCALP AND COMPANY. 



CONTENTS. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

PAGE 

I. Miles Standish 7 

11. Love and Friendship .... 16 

III. The Lover's Errand 27 

IV. John Alden 43 

V. The Sailing op the May Flower . . 58 

VI. Priscilla 73 

VII. The March of Miles Standish . . 84 

VIII. The Spinning-Wheel .... 95 

IX. The Wedding-Day 106 

BIRDS OF PASSAGE. 

Prometheus, or the Poet's Forethought . 119 

The Ladder of Saint Augustine . . . 123 

The Phantom Ship 127 

The Warden op the Cinque Ports . . .131 



IV CONTENTS. 

Haunted Houses 135 

In the Churchyard at Cambridge . . . 138 

The Emperor's Bird's-Nest . . . . 140 

The Two Angels 144 

Daylight and Moonlight 148 

The Jewish Cemetery at Newport . . .150 

Oliver Basselin 155 

Victor Galbraith • . . 160 

My Lost Youth 164 

The Eopewalk 170 

The Golden Mile-Stone 174 

Catawba Wine 178 

Santa Filomena 182 

The Discoverer of the North Cape . . 186 

Daybreak 194 

The Fiftieth Birthday' of Agassiz . . 196 

Children 199 

Sandalphon 202 

Epimetheus, or the Poet's Afterthought . 206 

Notes 211 



THE 



COUETSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 



1* 



MILES STANDISH. 

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land 
of the Pilgrims, 

To and fro in a room of his simple and primi- 
tive dwelling. 

Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordo- 
van leather, 

Strode, with a martial air. Miles Standish the 
Puritan Captain. 

Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands 
behind him, and pausing 

Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons 
of warfare, 



8 THE COUKTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Hanging in shining array along the walls of 
the chamber, — 

Cutlass and corslet of steel, and his trusty 
sword of Damascus, 

Curved at the point and inscribed with its 
mystical Arabic sentence, 

While underneath, in a corner, were fowling- 
piece, musket, and matchlock. 

Short of stature he was, but strongly built and 
athletic, 

Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with 
muscles and sinews of iron ; 

Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet 
beard was already 

Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges some- 
times in November. 

Near him was seated John Alden, his friend, 
and household companion, 

Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine 
by the window ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 9 

Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon 

complexion, 
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty 

thereof, as the captives 
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, 

" Not Angles but Angels." 
Youngest of all was he of the men who came 

in the May Flower. 

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent 
scribe interrupting, 

Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Stan- 
dish the Captain of Plymouth. 

" Look at these arms," he said, " the warlike 
weapons that hang here 

Burnished and bright and clean, as if for pa- 
rade or inspection ! 

This is the sword of Damascus I fought with 
in Flanders ; this breastplate. 

Well I remember the day ! once saved my life 
in a skirmish ; 



10 THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 

Here in front you can see the very dint of the 

bullet 
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish 

arcabucero. 
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten 

bones of Miles Standish 
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave 

in the Flemish morasses." 
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked 

not up from his writing : 
" Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened 

the speed of the bullet ; 
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield 

and our weapon ! " 
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the 

words of the stripling : 
" See, how bright they are burnished, as if in 

an arsenal hanging ; 
That is because I have done it myself, and not 

left it to others. 



THE COUKTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 11 

Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an 
excellent adage ; 

So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens 
and your inkhorn. 

Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, in- 
vincible army. 

Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest 
and his matchlock. 

Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet 
and pillage. 

And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of 
my soldiers ! " 

This he said with a smile, that danced in his 
eyes, as the sunbeams 

Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish 
again in a moment. 

Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Cap- 
tain continued : 

" Look ! you can see from this window my 
brazen howitzer planted 



12 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

High Oil the roof of the church, a preacher who 

speaks to the purpose, 
Steady, straight-forward, and strong, with irre- 
sistible logic. 
Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the 

hearts of the heathen. 
Now we are ready, I think, for any assault of 

the Indians ; 
Let them come, if they like, and the sooner 

they try it the better, — 
Let them come if they like, be it sagamore, 

sachem, or pow-wow, 
Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or To- 

kamahamon ! " 

Long at the window he stood, and wistfully 
gazed on the landscape, 

Washed with a cold gray mist, the vapory 
breath of the east-wind. 

Forest and meadow and hill, and the steel- 
blue rim of the ocean. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 13 

Lying silent and sad, in the afternoon shadows 

and sunshine. 
Over his countenance flitted a shadow like 

those on the landscape, 
Gloom intermingled with light ; and his voice 

was subdued with emotion. 
Tenderness, pity, regret, as after a pause he 

proceeded : 
" Yonder there, on the hill by the sea, lies 

buried Rose Standish ; 
Beautiful rose of love, that bloomed for me by 

the wayside ! 
She was the first to die of all who came in the 

May Flower ! 
Green above her is growing the field of wheat 

we have sown there. 
Better to hide from the Indian scouts the 

graves of our people, 
Lest they should count them and see how many 

already have perished ! " 



14 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Sadly liis face he averted, and strode up and 
down, and was thoughtful. 

Fixed to the opposite wall was a shelf of 
books, and among them 

Prominent three, distinguished alike for bulk 
and for binding ; 

Bariffe's Artillery Guide, and the Commen- 
taries of Caesar, 

Out of the Latin translated by Arthur Gold- 
inge of London, 

And, as if guarded by these, between them was 
standing the Bible. 

Musing a moment before them, Miles Standish 
paused, as if doubtful 

Which of the three he should choose for his 
consolation and comfort, 

Whether the wars of the Hebrews, the famous 
campaigns of the Bomans, 

Or the Artillery practice, designed for bellige- 
rent Christians. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 15 

Finally down from its shelf lie dragged the 
ponderous Roman, 

Seated himself at the window, and opened the 
book, and in silence 

Turned o'er the well-worn leaves, where thumb- 
marks thick on the margin. 

Like the tram23le of feet, proclaimed the battle 
was hottest. 

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurry- 
ing pen of the stripling. 

Busily writing epistles important, to go by the 
May Flower, 

Ready to sail on the morrow, or next day at 
latest, God willing ! 

Homeward bound with the tidings of all that 
terrible winter. 

Letters written by Alden, and full of the name 
of Priscilla, 

Full of the name and the fame of the Puritan 
maiden Priscilla ! 



16 



II. 



LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 



Nothing was heard in the room but the hurry- 
ing pen of the stripling, 

Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart 
of the Captain, 

Reading the marvellous words and achieve- 
ments of Julius Caesar. 

After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with 
his hand, palm downwards, 

Heavily on the page : "A wonderful man was 
this Caesar ! 

You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here 
is a fellow 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 17 

Who could both write and fight, and in both 

was equally skilful ! " 
Straightway answered and spake John Alden, 

the comely, the youthful : 
" Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with 

his pen and his weapons. 
Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he 

could dictate 
Seven letters at once, at the same time writing 

his memoirs." 
" Truly," continued the Captain, not heeding 

or hearing the other, 
" Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius 

Csesar ! 
Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian 

village. 
Than be second in Rome, and I think he was 

right when he said it. 
Twice was he married before he was twenty, 

and many times after; 

2* 



18 THE COUKTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand 

cities he conquered ; 
He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has 

recorded ; 
Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator 

Brutus ! 
Now, do you know what he did on a certain 

occasion in Flanders, 
When the rear-guard of his army retreated, 

the front giving way too. 
And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded 

so closely together 
There was no room for their swords? Why, 

he seized a shield from a soldier. 
Put himself straight at the head of his troops, 

and commanded the captains, 
Calling on each by his name, to order forward 

the ensigns ; 
Then to widen the ranks, and give more room 

for their weapons ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 19 

So lie won tlie day, the battle of something-or- 

otlier. 
That's what I always say; if you wish a thing 

to be well done, 
You must do it yourself, you must not leave 

it to others !" 

All was silent again ; the Captain continued 
his reading. 

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurry- 
ing pen of the stripling 

Writing epistles important to go next day by 
the May Flower, 

Filled with the name and the fame of the Pu- 
ritan maiden Priscilla ; 

Every sentence began or closed with the name 
of Priscilla, 

Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided 
the secret. 

Strove to betray it by singing and shouting the 
name of Priscilla ! 



20 THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 

Finally closing his book, with a hang of the 

ponderous cover, 
Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier 

grounding his musket. 
Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish 

the Captain of Plymouth : 
" When you have finished your work, I have 

something important to tell you. 
Be not however in haste ; I can wait ; I shall 

not be impatient ! " 
Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the 

last of his letters. 
Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful 

attention : 
" Speak ; for whenever you speak, I am always 

ready to listen, 
Always ready to hear whatever pertains to 

Miles Standish." 
Thereupon answered the Captain, embarrassed, 

and culling his phrases : 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 21 

" ' T is not good for a man to be alone, say the 

Scriptures. 
This I have said before, and again and again 

I repeat it ; 
Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, 

and say it. 
Since Rose Standish died, my life has been 

weary and dreary ; 
Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing 

of friendship. 
Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the 

maiden Priscilla. 
She is alone in the world ; her father and 

mother and brother 
Died in the winter together ; I saw her going 

and coming, 
Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the 

bed of the dying, 
Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to 

myself, that if ever 



22 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

There were angels on earth, as there are angels 

in heaven, 
Two have I seen and known; and the angel 

whose name is Priscilla 
Holds in my desolate life the place which the 

other abandoned. 
Long have I cherished the thought, but never 

have dared to reveal it. 
Being a coward in this, though valiant enough 

for the most part. 
Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden 

of Plymouth, 
Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of 

words but of actions. 
Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and 

heart of a soldier. 
Not in these words, you know, but this in short 

is my meaning ; 
I am a maker of war, and not a maker of 

phrases. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 23 

YoH, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in 
elegant language. 

Such as you read in your hooks of the plead- 
ings and wooings of lovers, 

Such as you think best adapted to win the 
heart of a maiden." 

When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair- 
haired, taciturn stripling. 

All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, 
bewildered, 

Trying to mask his dismay by treating the 
subject with lightness, 

Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand 
still in his bosom. 

Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is 
stricken by lightning. 

Thus made answer and spake, or rather stam- 
mered than answered : 

" Such a message as that, I am sure I should 
mangle and mar it ; 



24 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

If yoii would have it well done, — I am only 

repeating your maxim, — 
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it 

to others ! " 
But with the air of a man whom nothing can 

turn from his purpose, 
Gravely shaking his head, made answer the 

Captain of Plymouth : 
" Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean 

to gainsay it ; 
But we must use it discreetly, and not waste 

powder for nothing. 
Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of 

phrases. 
I can march up to a fortress and summon the 

place to surrender. 
But march up to a woman with such a propo- 
sal, I dare not. 
I 'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the 

mouth of a cannon, 



THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 25 

But of a thundering " No ! " point-blank from 

tlie mouth of a woman, 
That I confess I 'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed 

to confess it ! 
So you must grant my request, for you are an 

elegant scholar. 
Having the graces of speech, and skill in the 

turning of phrases." 
Taking the hand of his friend, who still was 

reluctant and doubtful, 
Holding it long in his own, and pressing it 

kindly, he added : 
" Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep 

is the feeling that prompts me ; 
Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the 

name of our friendshij) ! " 
Then made answer John Alden : " The name 

of friendship is sacred ; 
What you demand in that name, I have not the 

power to deny you ! " 



26 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

So the strong will prevailed, subduing and 

moulding the gentler, 
Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went 

on his errand. 



27 



in. 



So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went 
on Ms errand, 

Out of the street of the village, and into the 
paths of the forest. 

Into the tranquil woods, where blue-birds and 
robins were building 

Towns in the populous trees, with hanging 
gardens of verdure. 

Peaceful, aerial cities of joy and affection and 
freedom. 

All around him was calm, but within him com- 
motion and conflict. 



28 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Love contending with friendship, and self with 

each generous impulse. 
To and fro in his breast his thoughts were 

heaving and dashing, 
As in a foundering ship, with every roll of the 

vessel, 
Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge of 

the ocean ! 
" Must I relinquish it all," he cried with a wild 

lamentation, 
" Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, the 

illusion ? 
Was it for this I have loved, and waited, and 

worshipped in silence ? 
Was it for this I have followed the flying feet 

and the shadow 
Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of 

New England ? 
Truly the heart is deceitful, and out of its 

depths of corruption 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 29 

Rise, like an exhalation, the misty phantoms of 
passion ; 

Angels of light they seem, but are only delu- 
sions of Satan. 

All is clear to me now ; I feel it, I see it dis- 
tinctly ! 

This is the hand of the Lord ; it is laid upon 
me in anger, 

For I have followed too much the heart's de- 
sires and devices. 

Worshipping Astaroth blindly, and impious 
idols of Baal. 

This is the cross I must bear ; the sin and the 
swift retribution." 

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden 

went on his errand ; 
Crossing the brook at the ford, where it brawled 

over pebble and shallow. 

Gathering still, as he went, the May-flowers 

blooming around him, 
3* 



so THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and 

wonderful sweetness. 
Children lost in the woods, and covered with 

leaves in their slumber. 
" Puritan flowers," he said, " and the type of 

Puritan maidens, 
Modest and simple and sweet, the very type 

of Priscilla ! 
So I will take them to her ; to Priscilla the 

May-flower of Plymouth, 
Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting 

gift will I take them ; 
Breathing their silent farewells, as they fade 

and wither and perish. 
Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of the 

giver." 
So through the Plymouth woods John Alden 

went on his errand ; 
Came to an open space, and saw the disk of 

the ocean. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 31 

Sailless, sombre and cold with the comfortless 

breath of the east-wind ; 
Saw the new-built house, and people at work 

in a meadow ; 
Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical 

voice of Priscilla 
Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old 

Puritan anthem, 
Music that Luther sang to the sacred words of 

the Psalmist, 
Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling and 

comforting many. 
Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the 

form of the maiden 
Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool 

like a snow-drift 
Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the 

ravenous spindle. 
While with her foot on the treadle she guided 

the wheel in its motion. 



32 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm- 
book of Ainsworth, 

Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the 
music together, 

Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the 
wall of a churchyard, 

Darkened and overhung by the running vine of 
the verses. 

Such was the book from whose pages she sang 
the old Puritan anthem. 

She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the 
forest, 

Making the humble house and the modest ap- 
parel of home-spun 

Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the 
wealth of her being ! 

Over him rushed, like a wind that is keen 
and cold and relentless. 

Thoughts of what might have been, and the 
weight and woe of his errand ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 33 

All the dreams that had faded, and all the 

hopes that had vanished, 
All his life henceforth a dreary and tenantless 

mansion, 
Haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrowful 

faces. 
Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he 

said it, 
" Let not him that putteth his hand to the 

plough look backwards ; 
Though the ploughshare cut through the 

flowers of life to its fountains. 
Though it pass o'er the graves of the dead and 

the hearths of the living. 
It is the will of the Lord ; and his mercy en- 
dure th for ever ! " 

So he entered the house : and the hum of 
the wheel and the singing 



34: THE COXJRTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Suddenly ceased ; for Priscilla, aroused by liis 
step on the thresliold, 

Rose as he entered, and gave him her hand, m 
signal of welcome. 

Saying, " I knew it was you, when I heard 
your step in the passage ; 

For I was thinking of you, as I sat there sing- 
ing and spinning." 

Awkward and dumb with delight, that a 
thought of him had been mingled 

Thus in the sacred psalm, that came from the 
heart of the maiden. 

Silent before her he stood, and gave her the 
flowers for an answer, 

Finding no words for his thought. He remem- 
bered that day in the winter, 

After the first great snow, when he broke a 
path from the village. 

Reeling and plunging along through the drifts 
that encumbered the doorway, 



THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 35 

Stamping the snow from his feet as he entered 

the house, and Priscilla 
Laughed at his snowy locks, and gave him a 

seat by the fireside, 
Grateful and pleased to know he had thought 

of her in the snow-storm. 
Had he but spoken then ! perhaps not in vain 

had he spoken ; 
Now it was all too late ; the golden moment 

had vanished ! 
So he stood there abashed, and gave her the 

flowers for an answer. 

Then they sat down and talked of the birds 

and the beautiful Spring-time, 
Talked of their friends at home, and the May 

Flower that sailed on the morrow. 
" I have been thinking all day," said gently 

the Puritan maiden, 
" Dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of 

the hedge-rows of England, — 



36 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

They are in blossom now, and the country is 

all like a garden ; 
Thinking of lanes and fields, and the song of 

the lark and the linnet, 
Seeing the village street, and familiar faces of 

neighbors 
Going about as of old, and stopping to gossip 

together. 
And, at the end of the street, the village church, 

with the ivy 
Climbing the old gray tower, and the quiet 

graves in the churchyard. 
Kind are the people I live with, and dear to 

me my religion ; 
Still my heart is so sad, that I wish myself back 

in Old England. 
You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help it : 

I almost 
"Wish myself back in Old England, I feel so 

lonely and wretched." 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 37 

Thereupon answered the youth : — " Indeed 

I do not condemn you ; 
Stouter hearts than a Avoman's have quailed in 

this terrible winter. 
Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a 

stronger to lean on ; 
So I have come to you now, with an offer and 

proffer of marriage 
Made by a good man and true. Miles Standish 

the Captain of Plymouth ! " 

Thus he delivered his message, the dexterous 

writer of letters, — 
Bid not embellish the theme, nor array it in 

beautiful phrases. 
But came straight to the point, and blurted it 

out like a schoolboy ; 
Even the Captain himself could hardly have 

said it more bluntly. 
Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla the 

Puritan maiden 



38 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Looked into Alden's face, her eyes dilated with 

wonder, 
Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned 

her and rendered her speechless ; 
Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the 

ominous silence : 
" If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very 

eager to wed me, 
Why does he not come himself, and take the 

trouble to woo me ? 
If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not 

worth the winning ! " 
Then John Alden began explaining and smooth- 
ing the matter. 
Making it worse as he went, by saying the 

Captain was busy, — 
Had no time for such things ; — such things ! 

the words grating harshly 
Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a 

flash she made answer: 



THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 39 

"Has lie no time for such tilings, as yon call it, 
before lie is married. 

Would lie be likelj to find it, or make it, after 
tlie wedding ? 

That is the way with you men ; you don't un- 
derstand us, you cannot. 

Wlien you have made up your minds, after 
thinking of this one and that one. 

Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one 
with another. 

Then you make known your desire, with ab- 
rupt and sudden avowal, 

And are offended and hurt, and indignant per- 
haps, that a woman 

Does not respond at once to a love that she 
never suspected. 

Does not attain at a bound the height to which 
you have been climbing. 

This is not right nor just : for surely a woman's 
affection 



40 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only 

the asking. 
When one is truly in love, one not only says it, 

but shows it. 
Had he but waited awhile, had he only showed 

that he loved me, 
Even this Captain of yours — who knows ? — 

at last might have won me, 
Old and rough as he is; but now it never 

can happen." 

Still John Alden went on, unheeding the 
words of Priscilla, 

Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, per- 
suading, expanding ; 

Spoke of his courage and skill, and of all his 
battles in Flanders, 

How with the people of God he had chosen to 
suffer affliction, 

How, in return for his zeal, they had made him 
Captain of Plymouth ; 



THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 41 

He was a gentleman born, could trace his pedi- 
gree plainly 

Back to Hugh Standish of Duxburj Hall, in 
Lancashire, England, 

Who was the son of Ealph, and the grandson 
of Thurston de Standish ; 

Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely 
defrauded, 

Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest 
a cock argent 

Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of 
the blazon. 

He was a man of honor, of noble and generous 
nature ; 

Though he was rough, he was kindly ; she 
knew how during the winter 

He had attended the sick, with a hand as gen- 
tle as woman's ; 
Somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny it, 
and headstrong, 

4# 



42 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and 
placable always. 

Not to be laughed at and scorned, because he 
was little of stature ; 

For he was great of heart, magnanimous, court- 
ly, courageous ; 

Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman 
in England, 

Might be happy and proud to be called the 
wife of Miles Standish ! 

But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple 
and eloquent language, 

Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of 
his rival. 

Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes over- 
running with laughter. 

Said, in a tremulous voice, " Why don't you 
speak for yourself, John ? " 



A3 



lY. 



JOHN ALDEN. 



Into the open air John Alden, perplexed and 
bewildered, 

Rushed like a man insane, and wandered alone 
by the sea-side ; 

Paced up and down the sands, and bared his 
head to the east-wind. 

Cooling his heated brow, and the fire and 
fever within him. 

Slowly as out of the heavens, with apocalypti- 
cal splendors. 

Sank the City of God, in the vision of John 
the Apostle, 



44 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

So, with its cloudy walls of chrysolite, jasper, 

and sapphire. 
Sank the broad red sun, and over its turrets 

uplifted 
Glimmered the golden reed of the angel who 

measured the city. 

" Welcome, wind of the East ! " he ex- 
claimed in his wild exultation, 

" Welcome, wind of the East, from the caves 
of the misty Atlantic ! 

Blowing o'er fields of dulse, and measureless 
meadows of sea-grass, 

Blowing o'er rocky wastes, and the grottos and 
gardens of ocean ! 

Lay thy cold, moist hand on my burning fore- 
head, and wrap me 

Close in thy garments of mist, to allay the 
fever within me ! " 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 45 

Like an awakened conscience, the sea was 

moaning and tossing, 
Beating remorseful and loud the mutable sands 

of the sea-shore. 
Fierce in his soul was the struggle and tumult 

of passions contending ; 
Love triumphant and crowned, and friendship 

wounded and bleeding, 
Passionate cries of desire, and importunate 

pleadings of duty ! 
" Is it my fault," he said, " that the maiden 

has chosen between us ? 
Is it my fault that he failed, — my fault that I 

am the victor ? " 
Then within him there thundered a voice, like 

the voice of the Prophet : 
" It hath displeased the Lord ! " — and he 

thought of David's transgression, 
Bathsheba's beautiful face, and his friend in 

the front of the battle ! 



46 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Shame and confusion of guilt, and abasement 
and self-condemnation, 

Overwhelmed him at once ; and he cried in the 
deepest contrition : 

" It hath displeased the Lord ! It is the temp- 
tation of Satan ! " 

Then, uplifting his head, he looked at the 

sea, and beheld there 
Dimly the shadowy form of the May Flower 

riding at anchor, 
Kocked on the rising tide, and ready to sail on 

the morrow ; 
Heard the voices of men through the mist, the 

rattle of cordage 
Thrown on the deck, the shouts of the mate, 

and the sailors' " Ay, ay. Sir ! " 
Clear and distinct, but not loud, in the dripping 

air of the twilight. 
Still for a moment he stood, and listened, and 

stared at the vessel. 



THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 47 

Then went hurriedly on, as one who, seeing a 

phantom. 
Stops, then quickens his pace, and follows the 

beckoning shadow. 
"Yes, it is plain to me now," he murmured; 

" the hand of the Lord is 
Leading me out of the land of darkness, the 

bondage of error. 
Through the sea, that shall lift the walls of its 

waters around me. 
Hiding me, cutting me off, from the cruel 

thoughts that pursue me. 
Back will I go o'er the ocean, this dreary land 

will abandon. 
Her whom I may not love, and him whom my 

heart has offended. 
Better to be in my grave in the green old 

churchyard in England, 
Close by my mother's side, and among the dust 

of my kindred ; 



48 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Better be dead and forgotten, than living in 
shame and dishonor ! 

Sacred and safe and unseen, in the dark of the 
narrow chamber 

With me my secret shall lie, like a buried jew- 
el that glimmers 

Bright on the hand that is dust, in the cham- 
bers of silence and darkness, — 

Yes, as the marriage ring of the great espou- 
. sal hereafter ! " 

Thus as he spake, he turned, in the strength 

of his strong resolution. 
Leaving behind him the shore, and hurried 

along in the twilight. 
Through the congenial gloom of the forest 

silent and sombre. 
Till he beheld the lights in the seven houses of 

Plymouth, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 49 

Shining like seven stars in the dusk and mist 
of the evening. 

Soon he entered his door, and found the re- 
doubtable CaiDtain 

Sitting alone, and absorbed in the martial pa- 
ges of Caesar, 

Fighting some great campaign in Hainault or 
Brabant or Flanders. 

" Long have you been on your errand," he said 
with a cheery demeanor. 

Even as one who is waiting an answer, and 
fears not the issue. 

" Not far off is the house, although the woods 
are between us ; 

But you have lingered so long, that while you 
were going and coming 

I have fought ten battles and sacked and de- 
molished a city. 

Come, sit down, and in order relate to me all 
that has happened." 



OO THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Then John Alden spake, and related the 
wondrous adventure, 

From beginning to end, minutely, just as it 
happened ; 

How he had seen Priscilla, and how he had 
sped in his courtship, 

Only smoothing a little, and softening down her 
refusal. 

But when he came at length to the words Pris- 
cilla had spoken, 

Words so tender and cruel: "Why don't you ,^ 
speak for yourself, John ? " 

Up leaped the Captain of Plymouth, and 
stamped on the floor, till his armor 

Clanged on the wall, where it hung, with a 
sound of sinister omen. 

All his pent-up wrath burst forth in a sudden 
explosion. 

Even as a hand-grenade, that scatters destruc- 
tion around it. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 51 

Wildly lie shouted, and loud : '^ John Alden ! 
you have betrayed mo ! 

Me, Miles Standish, your friend ! have sup- 
planted, defrauded, betrayed me ! 

One of my ancestors ran his sword through the 
heart of Wat Tyler ; 

Who shall prevent me from running my own 
through the heart of a traitor ? 

Yours is the greater treason, for yours is a trea- 
son to friendship ! 
^ You, who lived under my roof, whom I cher- 
ished and loved as a brother ; 

You, who have fed at my board, and drunk at 
my cup, to whose keeping 

I have intrusted my honor, my thoughts the 
most sacred and secret, — 

You too, Brutus ! ah woe to the name of 
friendship hereafter ! 

Brutus was Caesar's friend, and you were mine, 
but henceforward 



52 THE COURTSHIP OB^ MILES STANDISH. 

Let there be nothing between us save war, and 
implacable hatred ! " 

So sjDake the Captain of Plymouth, and 
strode about in the chamber, 

Chafing and choking with rage ; like cords 
were the veins on his temples. 

But in the midst of his anger a man appeared 
at the doorway. 

Bringing in uttermost haste a message of ur- 
gent importance, 

Eumors of danger and war and hostile incur- 
sions of Indians ! 

Straightway the Captain paused, and, without 
further question or parley. 

Took from the nail on the wall his sword with 
its scabbard of iron. 

Buckled the belt round his waist, and, frown- 
ing fiercely, departed. 

Alden was left alone. He heard the clank of 
the scabbard 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 53 

Growing fainter and fainter, and dying away 

in tlie distance. 
Then lie arose from his seat, and looked forth 

into the darkness. 
Felt the cool air blow on his cheek, that was 

hot with the insult. 
Lifted his eyes to the heavens, and, folding his 

hands as in childhood, 
Prayed in the silence of night to the Father 

who seeth in secret. 

Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrath- 
ful away to the council, 

Found it already assembled, impatiently wait- 
ing his coming ; 

Men in the middle of life, austere and grave in 
deportment, 

Only one of them old, the hill that was nearest 
to heaven. 

Covered with snow, but erect, the excellent 
Elder of Plymouth. 

5* 



54 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

God had sifted three kingdoms to find the 
wheat for this planting, 

Then had sifted the wheat, as the living seed of 
a nation ; 

So say the chronicles old, and such is the faith 
of the people ! 

Near them was standing an Indian, in attitude 
stern and defiant, t 

Naked down to the waist, and grim and fero- 
cious in aspect ; 

While on the table before them was lying un- 
opened a Bible, 

Ponderous, bound in leather, brass-studded, 
printed in Holland, 

And beside it outstretched the skin of a rattle- 
snake glittered. 

Filled, like a quiver, with arrows ; a signal and 
challenge of warfare. 

Brought by the Indian, and speaking with 
arrowy tongues of defiance. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 55 

This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, and 
heard them debating 

What were an answer befitting the hostile mes- 
sage and menace, 

Talking of this and of that, contriving, suggest- 
ing, objecting ; 

One voice only for peace, and that the voice of 
the Elder, 

Judging it wise and well that some at least 
were converted. 

Rather than any were slain, for this was but 
Christian behavior ! 

Then outspake Miles Standish, the stalwart 
Captain of Plymouth, 

Muttering deep in his throat, for his voice was 
husky with anger, 

" What ! do you mean to make war with milk 
and the water of roses ? 

Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your how- 
itzer planted 



56 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

There on tlie roof of the church, or is it to 
shoot red devils ? 

Truly the only tongue that is understood by a 
savage 

Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from the 
mouth of the cannon ! " 

Thereupon answered and said the excellent 
Elder of Plymouth, 

Somewhat amazed and alarmed at this irrev- 
erent language : 

" Not so thought Saint Paul, nor yet the other 
Apostles ; 

jSTot from the cannon's mouth were the tongues 
of fire they spake with ! " 

But unheeded fell this mild rebuke on the 
Captain, 

Who had advanced to the table, and thus con- 
tinued discoursing : 

" Leave this matter to me, for to me by right 
it pertaineth. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 57 

War is a terrible trade ; but in the cause that 
is righteous, 

Sweet is the smell of powder ; and thus I an- 
swer the challenge ! " 

Then from the rattlesnake's skin, with a sud- 
den, contemptuous gesture. 

Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with 
powder and bullets 

Full to the very jaws, and handed it back to 
the savage. 

Saying, in thundering tones : " Here, take it ! 
this is your answer ! " 

Silently out of the room then glided the glis- 
tening savage, 

Bearing the serpent's skin, and seeming himself 
like a serpent. 

Winding his sinuous way in the dark to the 
depths of the forest. 



58 



THE SAILING OF THE MAY FLOWER. 

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists up- 
rose from the meadows, 

There was a stir and a sound in the slumber- 
ing village of Plymouth ; 

Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order 
imperative, " Forward ! " 

Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and 
then silence. 

Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out 
of the village. 

Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his 
valorous army, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 59 

Led by tlieir Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend 
of the white men, 

Northward marching to quell the sudden re- 
volt of the savage. 

Giants they seemed in the mist, or the mighty 
men of King David ; 

Giants in heart they were, who believed in God 
and the Bible, — 

Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midianites 
and Philistines. 

Over them gleamed far off the crimson banners 
of morning ; 

Under them loud on the sands, the serried bil- 
lows, advancing. 

Fired along the line, and in regular order re- 
treated. 

Many a mile had they marched, when at 
length the village of Plymouth 
Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its 
manifold labors. 



60 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the 

smoke from the chimneys 
Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed steadily 

eastward ; 
Men came forth from the doors, and paused 

and talked of the weather, 
Said that the wind had changed, and was blow- 
ing fair for the May Flower ; 
Talked of their Captain's departure, and all 

the dangers that menaced, 
He being gone, the town, and what should be 

done in his absence. 
Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices 

of women 
Consecrated with hymns the common cares of 

the household. 
Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows 

rejoiced at his coming ; 
Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of 

the mountains ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 61 

Beautiful on the sails of the May Flower riding 

at anchor, 
Battered and blackened and worn by all the 

storms of the winter. 
Loosely against her masts was hanging and 

flapping her canvas, 
Rent by so many gales, and patched by the 

hands of the sailors. 
Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over 

the ocean. 
Darted a puff of smoke, and floated seaward ; 

anon rang 
Loud over field and forest the cannon's roar, 

and the echoes 
Heard and repeated the sound, the signal-gun 

of departure ! 
Ah ! but with louder echoes replied the hearts 

of the people ! 

Meekly, in voices subdued, the chapter was 

read from the Bible, 
6 



62 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Meekly the prayer was begun, but ended in 

fervent entreaty ! 
Then from their houses in haste came forth 

the Pilgrims of Plymouth, 
Men and women and children, all hurrying 

down to the sea-shore, 
Eager, with tearful eyes, to say farewell to the 

May Flower, 
Homeward bound o'er the sea, and leaving 

them here in the desert. 

Foremost among them was Alden. All night 

he had lain without slumber, 
Turning and tossing about in the heat and 

unrest of his fever. 
He had beheld Miles Stan dish, who came back 

late from the council. 
Stalking into the room, and heard him mutter 

and murmur. 
Sometimes it seemed a prayer, and sometimes 

it sounded like swearing. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. Q3 

Once he had come to the bed, and stood there 

a moment m silence ; 
Then he had turned away, and said : "I will 

not awake him ; 
Let him sleep on, it is best; for what is the 

use of more talking ! " 
Then he extinguished the light, and threw him- 
self down on his pallet, 
Dressed as he was, and ready to start at the 

break of the morning, — 
Covered himself with the cloak he had worn 

in his campaigns in Flanders, — 
Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, ready 

for action. 
But with the dawn he arose ; in the twilight 

Alden beheld him 
Put on his corslet of steel, and all the rest of 

his armor. 
Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of 

Damascus, 



64 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Take from the corner his musket, and so stride 

out of the chamber. 
Often the heart of the youth had burned and 

yearned to embrace him, 
Often his hps had essayed to speak, imploring 

for pardon ; 
All the old friendship came back, with its ten- 
der and grateful emotions ; 
But his pride overmastered the nobler nature 

within him, — 
Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the 

burning fire of the insult. 
So he beheld his friend departing in anger, but 

spake not, 
Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to death, 

and he spake not ! 
Then he arose from his bed, and heard what 

the people were saying, 
Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen 

and Richard and Gilbert, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISII. 65 

Joined in the morning prayer, and in the read- 
ing of Scripture, 

And, with the others, in haste went hurrying 
down to the sea-shore, 

Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to 
their feet as a door-step 

Into a world unknown, — the corner-stone of 
a nation ! 

There with his boat was the Master, already 
a little impatient 

Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might 
shift to the eastward. 

Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor 
of ocean about him, 

Speaking with this one and that, and cramming 
letters and parcels 

Into his pockets capacious, and messages min- 
gled together 

6* 



GG THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Into his narrow brain, till at last he was 

wholly bewildered. 
Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot 

placed on the gunwale, 
One still firm on the rock, and talking at times 

with the sailors. 
Seated erect on the thwarts, all ready and eager 

for starting. 
He too was eager to go, and thus put an end 

to his anguish. 
Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than 

keel is or canvas. 
Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that 

would rise and pursue him. 
But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the 

form of Priscilla 
Standing dejected among them, unconscious 

of all that was passing. 
Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined 

his intention, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 67 

Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, im- 
ploring, and patient, 

That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled 
from its purpose, 

As from the verge of a crag, where one step 

more is destruction. 

( Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, 

^ mysterious instincts ! 

Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated 
/ are moments. 

Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the 
wall adamantine ! 

" Here I remain ! " he exclaimed, as he looked 
at the heavens above him. 

Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered 
the mist and the madness. 

Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was stag- 
gering headlong. 

" Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in the 
ether above me, 



68 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Seems like a hand that is pointing and beckon- 
ing over the ocean. 

There is another hand, that is not so spectral 
and ghost-like, 

Holding me, drawing me back, and clasping 
mine for protection. 

Float, hand of cloud, and vanish away in the 
ether ! 

Koll tliyself up like a fist, to threaten and 
daunt me ; I heed not 

Either your warning or menace, or any omen 
of evil ! 

There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and 
so wholesome, 

As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is 
pressed by her footsteps. 

Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invis- 
ible presence 

Hover around her for ever, protecting, support- 
ing her weakness ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 69 

Yes ! as my foot was the first that stepped on 

this rock at the landmg, 
So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the 

last at the leaving ! " 

Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dig- 
nified air and important, 

Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the 
wind and the Aveather, 

Walked about on the sands ; and the people 
crowded around him 

Saying a few last words, and enforcing his 
careful remembrance. 

Then, taking each by the hand, as if he were 
grasping a tiller, 

Into the boat he sprang, and in haste shoved 
off to his vessel. 

Glad in his heart to get rid of all this worry 
and flurry. 

Glad to be gone from a land of sand and sick- 
ness and sorrow, 



70 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANPISH. 

Short allowance of victual, and plenty of noth- 
ing but Gospel ! 

Lost in the sound of the oars was the last fare- 
well of the Pilgrims. 

strong hearts and true ! not one went back 
in the May Flower ! 

No, not one looked back, who had set his hand 
to this ploughing I 

Soon were heard on board the shouts and 

songs of the sailors 
Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting the 

ponderous anchor. 
Then the yards were braced, and all sails set 

to the west-wind, 
Blowing steady and strong ; and the May 

Flower sailed from the harbor, 
Rounded the point of the G-urnet, and leaving 

far to the southward 
Island and cape of sand, and the Field of the 

First Encounter, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 71 

Took the wind on her quarter, and stood for 

the open Atlantic, 
Borne on the send of the sea, and the swelling 

hearts of the Pilgrims. 

Long in silence they watched the receding 

sail of the vessel, 
Much endeared to them all, as something living 

and human ; 
Then, as if filled with the spirit, and wrapt in 

a vision prophetic, 
Baring his hoary head, the excellent Elder of 

Plymouth 
Said, " Let us pray ! " and they prayed, and 

thanked the Lord and took courage. 
Mournfully sobbed the waves at the base of the 

rock, and above them 
Bowed and whispered the wheat on the hill of 

death, and their kindred 
Seemed to awake in their graves, and to join 

in the prayer that they uttered. 



72 THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 

Sun-illumined and white, on the eastern verge 

of the ocean 
Gleamed the departing sail, like a marble slab 

in a graveyard ; 
Buried beneath it lay for ever all hope of es- 
caping. 
Lo ! as they turned to depart, they saw the 

form of an Indian, 
"Watching them from the hill ; but while they 

spake with each other. 
Pointing with outstretched hands, and saying, 

" Look ! " he had vanished. 
So they returned to their homes ; but Alden 

lingered a little, 
Musing alone on the shore, and watching the 

wash of the billows 
Round the base of the rock, and the sparkle 

and flash of the sunshine. 
Like the spirit of God, moving visibly over 

the waters. 



73 



VI. 



PRISCILLA. 



Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the 

shore of the ocean, 
Thinking of many things, and most of all of 

Priscilla ; 
And as if thought had the power to draw to 

itself, like the loadstone. 
Whatsoever it touches, by subtile laws of its 

nature, 
Lo ! as he turned to depart, Priscilla was 

standing beside him. 

" Are you so much offended, you will not 
speak to me ? " said she. 



74 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

" Am I SO much to blame, that yesterday, when 

you were pleading 
Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impul- 
sive and wayward, 
Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful 

perhaps of decorum ? 
Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so 

frankly, for saying 
What I ought not to have said, yet now I can 

never unsay it ; 
For there are moments in life, when the heart 

is so full of emotion. 
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its 

depths like a pebble 
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its 

secret, 
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be 

gathered together. 
Yesterday I was shocked, when I heard you 

speak of Miles Standish, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 75 

Praising his virtues, transforming his very de- 
fects into virtues, 

Praising his courage and strength, and even 
his fighting in Flanders, 

As if by fighting alone you could win the heart 
of a woman, 

Quite overlooking yourself and the rest, in ex- 
alting your hero. 

Therefore I spake as I did, by an irresistible 
impulse. 

You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake of 
the friendship between us. 

Which is too true and too sacred to be so easily 
broken ! " 

Thereupon answered John Alden, the scholar, 
the friend of Miles Standish : 

" I was not angry with you, with myself alone 
I was angry. 

Seeing how badly I managed the matter I had 
in my keeping." 



76 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

" No I " interrupted the maiden, witli answer 

prompt and decisive ; 
" No ; you were angry with me, for speaking 

so frankly and freely. 
It was wrong, I acknowledge ; for it is the fate 

of a woman 
Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a 

ghost that is speechless, 
Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell 

of its silence. 
Hence is the inner life of so many suffering 

women 
Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean 

rivers 
Running through caverns of darkness, unheard, 

unseen, and unfruitful. 
Chafing their channels of stone, with endless 

and profitless murmurs." 
Thereupon answered John Alden, the young 

man, the lover of women: 



THE COUKTSIIIP OF MILES STANDISH. 77 

"Heaven forbicMt, Priscilla ; and truly they 
seem to mc always 

More like the beautiful rivers that watered the 
garden of Eden, 

More like the river Euphrates, through deserts 
of Havilah flowing. 

Filling the land with delight, and memories 
sweet of the garden ! " 

" Ah, by these words, I can see," again inter- 
rupted the maiden, 

" How very little you prize me, or care for 
what I am saying. 

When from the depths of my heart, in pain 
and with secret misgiving. 

Frankly I speak to you, asking for sympathy 
only and kindness. 

Straightway you« take up my words, that are 
plain and direct and in earnest. 

Turn them away from their meaning, and an- 
swer with flattering phrases. 

7# 



78 THE COUKTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

This is not right, is not just, is not true to the 
best that is in you ; 

For I know and esteem you, and feel that your 
nature is noble, 

Lifting mine up to a higher, a more ethereal 
level. 

Therefore I value your friendship, and feel it 
perhaps the more keenly 

If you say aught that implies I am only as 
one among many. 

If you make use of those common and compli- 
mentary phrases 

Most men think so fine, in dealing and speak- 
ing with women. 

But which women reject as insipid, if not as 
insulting." 

Mute and amazed was Alden ; and listened 
and looked at Priscilla, 
Thinking he never had seen her more fair, more 
divine in her beauty. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 79 

He who but yesterday pleaded so glibly the 
cause of another, 

Stood there embarrassed and silent, and seek- 
ing in vain for an answer. 

So the maiden went on, and little divined or 
imagined 

What was at work in his heart, that made him 
so awkward and speechless. 
(^Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what 
we think, and in all things 

Keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred 
professions of friendship. 

It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to 
declare it : 

I have liked to be with you, to see you, to 
speak with you always. 

So I was hurt at your words, and a little af- 
fronted to hear you 

Urge me to marry your friend, though he were 
the Captain Miles Standish. 



80 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

* For I must tell you the truth : much more to 

me is your .friendship 
Than all the love he could give, vrere he twice 

the hero you think him." 
Then she extended her hand, and Alden, who 

eagerly grasped it, 
Felt all the wounds in his heart, that were 

aching and bleeding so sorely, 
Healed by the touch of that hand, and he said, 

with a voice full of feeling : 

"\Yes, we must ever be friends ; and of all who 

— > 

offer you friendship 

Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest 

and dearest ! " 

Casting a farewell look at the glimmering 

sail of the May Flower, 
Distant, but still in sight, and sinking below 

the horizon, 
Homeward together they walked, with a strange, 

indefinite feeling, 



THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 81 

That all the rest had departed and left them 

alone in the desert. 
But, as they went through the fields in the 

blessing and smile of the sunshine, 
Lighter grew their hearts, and Priscilla said 

very archly : 
" Now that our terrible Captain has gone in 

pursuit of the Indians, 
Where he is happier far than he would be 

commanding a household. 
You may speak boldly, and tell me of all that 

happened between you, 
WliQM you returned last night, and said how 

ungrateful you found me." 
Thereupon answered John Alden, and told her 

the whole of the story, — 
Told her his own despair, and the direful wrath 

of Miles Stan dish. 
Whereat the maiden smiled, and said between 

laughing and earnest, 



82 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

" He is a little chimney, and heated hot in a 

moment I" 
But as he gently rebuked her, and told her how 

much he had suffered, — 
How he had even determined to sail that day 

in the May Flower, 
And had remained for her sake, on hearing the 

dangers that threatened, — 
All her manner was changed, and she said with 

a faltering accent, 
" Truly I thank you for this : how good you 

have been to me always ! " 

Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward Jeru- 
salem journeys. 

Taking three steps in advance, and one reluc- 
tantly backward, 

Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld by 
pangs of contrition ; 

Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet ever 
advancing, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 83 

Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy Land 
of his longings, , 

Urged by the fervor of love, and withheld by 
remorseful misgivings. 



81 



YII. 

THE MARCH OP MILES STANDISH. 

Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standisli was 
marching steadily northward, 

Winding through forest and swamp, and along 
the trend of the sea-shore. 

All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of his 
anger 

Burning and crackling within, and the sul- 
phurous odor of powder 

Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all 
the scents of the forest. 

Silent and moody he went, and much he re- 
volved his discomfort ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 85 

He who was used to success, and to easy vic- 
tories alwa3^s, 

Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to 
scorn by a maiden, 

Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend 
whom most he had trusted ! 

Ah! 'twas too much to be borne, and he fret- 
ted and chafed in his armor ! 

" I alone am to blame," he muttered, " for 
mine was the folly. 

What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and 
gray in the harness. 

Used to the camjD and its ways, to do with the 
wooing of maidens ? 

'T was but a dream, — let it pass, — let it van- 
ish like so many others ! 

What I thought was a flower, is only a weed, 
and is worthless ; 

Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it 
away, and henceforward 



86 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and wooer 

of dangers ! " 
Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry defeat 

and discomfort, 
While he was marching by day or lying at 

night in the forest. 
Looking up at the trees, and the constellations 

beyond them. 

After a three days' march he came to an In- 
dian encampment 

Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the 
sea and the forest ; 

"Women at work by the tents, and the warriors, 
horrid with war-paint. 

Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking 
together ; 

Who, when they saw from afar the sudden ap- 
proach of the white men. 

Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and 
sabre and musket, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 87 

Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from 

among them advancing, 
Came to parley with Standish, and offer him 

furs as a present ; 
Friendship was in their looks, but in their 

hearts there was hatred. 
Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers 

gigantic in stature. 
Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, 

king of Bashan ; 
One was Pecksuot named, and the other was 

called Wattawamat. 
Round their necks were suspended their knives 

in scabbards of wampum, 
Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as 

sharp as a needle. 
Other arms had they none, for they were cun- 
ning and crafty. 
" Welcome, English ! " they said, — these words 

they had learned from the traders 



88 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Touching at times on the coast, to barter and 

chaffer for peltries. 
Then in their native tongue they began to par- 
ley with Standish, 
Through his guide and interpreter, Hobomok, 

friend of the white man. 
Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly 

for muskets and powder, 
Kept by the white man, they said, concealed, 

with the plague, in his cellars, 
Ready to be let loose, and destroy his brother 

the red man !, 
But when Standish refused, and said he would 

give them the Bible, 
Suddenly changing their tone, they began to 

boast and to bluster. 
Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride in 

front of the other. 
And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly 

spake to the Captain : 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 89 

"Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes 
of the Captain, 

Angry is he in his heart ; but the heart of 
the brave Wattawamat 

Is not afraid at the sight. He was not born 
of a woman. 

But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree 
riven by lightning, 

Fortli he sprang at a bound, with all his weap- 
ons about him. 

Shouting, ' Who is there here to fight with the 
brave Wattawamat ? ' " 

Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting 
the blade on his left hand. 

Held it aloft and displayed a woman's face on 
the handle, 

Saying, with bitter expression and look of sin- 
ister meaning : 

" I have another at home, with the face of a 
man on the handle ; 

8* 



90 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

By and by they shall marry ; and there will 
be plenty of children ! " 

Then stood Pecksuot forth, self-vaunting, in- 
sulting Miles Standish : 

While with his fingers he patted the knife that 
hung at his bosom, 

Drawing it half from its sheath, and plunging 
it back, as he muttered, 

" By and by it shall see ; it shall eat ; ah, ha! 
but shall speak not ! 

This is the mighty Captain the white men have 
sent to destroy us ! 

He is a little man ; let him go and work with 
the women ! " 

Meanwhile Standish had noted the faces and 
figures of Indians 
Peeping and creeping about from bush to tree 
in the forest, 



THE COUKTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 91 

Feigning to look for game, with arrows set on 

tlieir bow-strings, 
Drawing about liim still closer and closer tlie 

net of tlieir ambusli. 
But undaunted he stood, and dissembled and 

treated them smoothly ; 
So the old chronicles say, that were writ in the 

days of the fathers. 
But when he heard their defiance, the boast, 

the taunt, and the insult, 
All the hot blood of his race, of Sir Hugh and 

of Thurston de Stan dish. 
Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in 

the veins of his temples. 
Headlong he leaped on the boaster, and, 

snatching his knife from its scabbard. 
Plunged it into his heart, and, reeling back- 
ward, the savage 
Fell with his face to the sky, and a fiendlike 

fierceness upon it. 



92 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Straight there arose from the forest the awful 

sound of the war-whoop, 
And, like a flurry of snow on the whistling 

wind of December, 
Swift and sudden and keen came a flight of 

feathery arrows. 
Then came a cloud of smoke, and out of the 

cloud came the lightning. 
Out of the lightning thunder ; and death un- 
seen ran before it. 
Frightened the savages fled for shelter in 

swamp and in thicket. 
Hotly pursued and beset ; but their sachem, 

the brave Wattawamat, 
Fled not ; he was dead. Unswerving and swift 

had a bullet 
Passed through his brain, and he fell with both 

hands clutching the greensward, 
Seeming in death to hold back from his foe the 

land of his fathers. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 93 

There on the flowers of the meadow the war- 
riors lay, and above them, 

Silent, with folded arms, stood Hobomok, 
friend of the white man. 

Smiling at length he exclaimed to the stalwart 
Captain of Plymouth : 

" Pecksuot bragged very loud, of his courage, 
his strength, and his stature, — 

Mocked the great Captain, and called him a 
little man ; but I see now 

Big enough have you been to lay him speech- 
less before you ! " 

Thus the first battle was fought and won 

by the stalwart Miles Standish. 
"When the tidings thereof were brought to the 

village of Plymouth, 
And as a trophy of war the head of the brave 

Wattawamat 
Scowled from the roof of the fort, which at 

once was a church and a fortress, 



94 THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 

All who beheld it rejoiced, and praised the 

Lord, and took courage. 
Only Priscilla averted her face from this spectre 

of terror, 
Thanking God in her heart that she had not 

married Miles Standish ; 
Shrinking, fearing almost, lest, coming home 

from his battles. 
He should lay claim to her hand, as the prize 

and reward of his valor. 



95 



YIII 



THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 



Month after month passed away, and in Au- 
tumn the ships of the merchants 

Came with kindred and friends, with cattle 
and corn for the Pilgrims. 

All in the village was peace ; the men were 
intent on their labors, 

Busy with hewing and building, with garden- 
plot and with merestead. 

Busy with breaking the glebe, and mowing the 
grass in the meadows. 

Searching the sea for its fish, and hunting the 
deer in the forest. 



96 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

All in the village was peace ; but at times tlie 
rumor of warfare 

Filled the air with alarm, and the apprehen- 
sion of danger. 

Bravely the stalwart Miles Standish was scour- 
ing the land with his forces, 

Waxing valiant in light and defeating the alien 
armies. 

Till his name had become a sound of fear to 
the nations. 

Anger was still in his heart, but at times the 
remorse and contrition 

Which in all noble natures succeed the pas- 
sionate outbreak, 

Came like a rising tide, that encounters the 
rush of a river, 

Staying its current awhile, but making it bitter 
and brackish. 

Meanwhile Alden at home had built him a 
new habitation, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 97 

Solid, substantial, of timber rough-hewn from 

the firs of the forest. 
Wooden-barred was the door, and the roof was 

covered with rushes ; 
Latticed the windows were, and the window- 
panes were of paper, 
Oiled to admit the light, while wind and rain 

were excluded. 
There too he dug a well, and around it planted 

an orchard : 
Still may be seen to this day some trace of the 

well and the orchard. 
Close to the house was the stall, where, safe 

and secure from annoyance, 
Raghorn, the snow-white steer, that had fallen 

to Alden's allotment 
In the division of cattle, might ruminate in the 

night-time 
Over the pastures he cropped, made fragrant 

by sweet pennyroyal. 



98 THE COURTSHIP OP MILES STANDISH. 

Oft when liis labor was finished, with eager 
feet would the dreamer 

Follow the pathway that ran through the woods 
to the house of Priscilla, 

Led by illusions romantic and subtile decep- 
tions of fancy, 

Pleasure disguised as duty, and love in the 
semblance of friendship. 

Ever of her he thought, when he fashioned 
the walls of his dwelling ; 

Ever of her he thought, when he delved in 
the soil of his garden ; 

Ever of her he thought, when he read in his 
Bible on Sunday 

Praise of the virtuous woman, as she is de- 
scribed in the Proverbs, — 

How the heart of her husband doth safely trust 
in her always. 

How all the days of her life she will do him 
good, and not evil, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 99 

How she seeketh the wool and the flax and 

worketh with gladness, 
How she lajetli her hand to the s^Drndle and 

holdeth the distaff, 
How she is not afraid of the snow for herself 

or her household, 
Knowing- her household are clothed with the 

scarlet clotli of her weaving ! 

So as she sat at her wheel one afternoon in 
the Autumn, 

Alden, who opposite sat, and was watching her 
dexterous fingers. 

As if the thread she was spinning were that 
of his life and his fortune, 

After a pause in their talk, tlms spake to the 
sound of the spindle. 

" Truly, Priscilla," he said, " when I see you 
spinning and spinning. 

Never idle a moment, but thrifty and thought- 
ful of others, 



100 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Suddenly you are transformed, are visibly 

changed in a moment ; 
You are no longer Priscilla, but Bertha tlie 

Beautiful Spinner." 
Here the light foot on the treadle grew swifter 

and swifter ; the spindle 
Uttered an angry snarl, and the thread snapped 

short in her fingers ; 
While the impetuous speaker, not heeding the 

mischief, continued : 
" You are the beautiful Bertha, the spinner, 

the queen of Helvetia ; 
She whose story I read at a stall in the streets 

of Southampton, 
Who, as she rode on her palfrey, o'er valley 

and meadow and mountain. 
Ever was spinning her thread from a distaif 

fixed to her saddle. 
She was so thrifty and good, that her name 

passed into a proverb. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISII. 101 

So shall it be with your own, when the spin- 
ning-wheel shall no longer 

Hum in the house of the farmer, and fill its 
chambers with music. 

Then shall the mothers, reproving, relate how 
it was in their childhood, 

Praising the good old times, and the days of 
Priscilla the spinner ! " 

Straight uprose from her wheel the beautiful 
Puritan maiden. 

Pleased with the praise of her thrift from him 
whose praise was the sweetest. 

Drew from the reel on the table a snowy skein 
of her spinning, 

Thus making answer, meanwhile, to the flatter- 
ing phrases of Alden : 

" Come, you must not be idle ; if I am a 
pattern for housewives, 

Show yourself equally worthy of being the 
model of husbands. 

9* 



102 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Hold this skein on your hands, while I wind it, 
ready for knitting ; 

Then who knows but hereafter, when fashions 
have changed and the manners, 

Fathers may talk to their sons of the good old 
times of John Alden ! " 

Thus, with a jest and a laugh, the skein on 
his hands she adjusted, 

He sitting awkwardly there, with his arms ex- 
tended before him, 

She standing graceful, erect, and winding the 
thread from his fingers. 

Sometimes chiding a little his clumsy man- 
ner of holding. 

Sometimes touching his hands, as she disentan- 
gled expertly 

Twist or knot in the yarn, unawares — for how 
could she help it-? — 

Sending electrical thrills through every nerve 
in his body. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 103 

Lo ! in the midst of this scene, a breathless 
messenger entered, 

Bringing in hurry and heat the terrible news 
from the village. 

Yes ; Miles Standish was dead ! — an Indian 
had brought them the tidings, — 

Slain bj a poisoned arrow, shot down in the 
front of the battle, 

Into an ambush beguiled, cut off with the 
whole of his forces ; 

All the town would be burned, and all the peo- 
ple be murdered ! 

Such were the tidings of evil that burst on the 
hearts of the hearers. 

Silent and statue-like stood Priscilla, her face 
looking backward 

Still at the face of the speaker, her arms up- 
lifted in horror ; 

But John Alden, upstarting, as if the barb of 
the arrow 



104 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Piercing the heart of his friend had struck his 

own, and had sundered 
Once and for ever the bonds that held him 

bound as a captive, 
Wild with excess of sensation, the awful delight 

of his freedom, 
Mingled with pain and regret, unconscious of 

what he was doing, 
Clasped, almost with a groan, the motionless 

form of Priscilla, 
Pressing her close to his heart, as for ever his 

own, and exclaiming : 
" Those whom the Lord hath united, let no 

man put them asunder ! " 

^ :Even as rivulets twain, from distant and 

separate sources, 
Seeing each other afar, as they leap from the 

rocks, and pursuing 
Each one its devious path, but drawing nearer 

and nearer, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 105 

Rush together at last, at their try sting-place in 

the forest ; 
So these lives that had run thus far in separate 

channels, 
Coming in sight of each other, then swerving 

and flowing asunder. 
Parted by barriers strong, but drawing nearer 

and nearer. 
Rushed together at last, and one was lost in the 

other,^ 



106 



IX. 

THE WEDDING-DAT. 

Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the 

tent of purple and scarlet, 
Issued the sun, the great High-Priest, in his 

garments resplendent. 
Holiness unto the Lord, in letters of light, on 

his forehead. 
Round the hem of his robe the golden bells and 

pomegranates. 
Blessing the world he came, and the bars of 

vapor beneath him 
Gleamed like a grate of brass, and the sea at 

his feet was a laver ! 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 107 

This was the wedding morn of Priscilla the 
Puritan maiden. 

Friends were assembled together ; the Elder 
and Magistrate also 

Graced the scene with their presence, and stood 
like the Law and the Gospel, 

One with the sanction of earth and one with 
the blessing of heaven. 

Simple and brief was the wedding, as that of 
Ruth and of Boaz. 

Softly the youth and the maiden repeated the 
words of betrothal. 

Taking each other for husband and wife in the 
Magistrate's presence, 

After the Puritan way, and the laudable cus- 
tom of Holland. 

Fervently then, and devoutly, the excellent El- 
der of Plymouth 

Prayed for the Iiearth and the home, that were 
founded that day in affection. 



108 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

Speaking of life and of death, and imploring- 
divine benedictions. 

Lo ! "wlien the service was ended, a form 
appeared on the threshold. 

Clad in armor of steel, a sombre and sorrowful 
figure ! 

Why does the bridegroom start and stare at 
the strange apparition ? 

Why does the bride turn pale, and hide her 
face on his shoulder ? 

Is it a phantom of air, — a bodiless, spectral 
illusion ? 

Is it a ghost from the grave, that has come to 
forbid the betrothal ? 

Long had it stood there unseen, a guest un- 
invited, unwelcomed ; 

Over its clouded eyes there had passed at times 
an expression 

Softening the gloom and revealing the warm 
heart hidden beneath them. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 109 

As when across the sky the driving rack of the 

rain-cloud 
Grows for a moment thin, and betrays the sun 

by its brightness. 
Once it had lifted its hand, and moved its lips, 

but was silent. 
As if an iron will had mastered the fleeting 

intention. 
But when were ended the troth and the prayer 

and the last benediction, 
Into the room it strode, and the people beheld 

with amazement 
Bodily there in his armor Miles Standish, the 

Captain of Plymouth ! 
Grasping the bridegroom's hand, he said with 

emotion, ^' Forgive me ! 
I have been angry and hurt, — too long have I 

cherished the feeling ; 
I have been cruel and hard, but now, thank 

God ! it is ended. 

10 



110 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Mine is the same hot blood that leaped in the 
veins of Hugh Standish, 

Sensitive, swift to resent, but as swift in aton- 
ing for error. 

Ne^er so much as now was Miles Standish the 
friend of John Alden." 

Thereupon answered the ]3ridegroom : " Let 
all be forgotten between us, — 

All save the dear, old friendship, and that shall 
grow older and dearer! " 

Then the Captain advanced, and, bowing, sa- 
luted Priscilla, 

Gravely, and after the manner of old-fashioned 
gentry in England, 

Something of camp and of court, of town and 
of country, commingled, 

"Wishing her joy of her wedding, and loudly 
lauding her husband. 

Then he said with a smile : ^' I should have 
remembered the adage, — 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. Ill 

(If you would be well served, you must serve 
yourself j^ and moreover, 

No man can gather cherries in Kent at the sea- 
son of Christmas ! " 

Great was the i^eople's amazement, and 
greater yet their rejoicing, 

Thus to behold once more the sun-burnt face 
of their Captain, 

Whom they had mourned as dead; and they 
gathered and crowded about him, 

Eager to see him and hear him, forgetful of 
bride and of bridegroom, 

Questioning, answering, laughing, and each 
interrupting the other. 

Till the good Captain declared, being quite 
overpowered and bewildered. 

He had rather by far break into an Indian en- 
campment. 

Than come again to a wedding to which he 
had not been invited. 



112 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Meanwhile the bridegroom went forth and 

stood with the bride at the doorway, 
Breathing the perfumed air of that warm and 

beautiful morning. 
Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely and 

sad in the sunshine. 
Lay extended before them the land of toil and 

privation ; 
There were the graves of the dead, and the 

barren waste of the sea-shore, 
There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, 

and the meadows ; 
But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the 

Garden of Eden, 
Filled with the presence of God, whose voice 

was the sound of the ocean. 

Soon was their vision disturbed by the noise 
and stir of departure. 
Friends coming forth from the house, and im- 
patient of longer delaying, 



t 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 113 

Each with his plan for the day, and the work 

that was left uncompleted. 
Then from a stall near at hand, amid exclama- 
tions of wonder, 
Alden the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, 

so proud of Priscilla, 
Brought out his snow-white steer, obeying the 

hand of its master. 
Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring 

in its nostrils. 
Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion 

placed for a saddle. 
She should not walk, he said, through the dust 

and heat of the noonday ; 
Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod 

along like a peasant. 
Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by 

the others. 
Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in 

the hand of her husband, 

10* 



114 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 

Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted 

her palfrey. 
" Nothmg is wanting now," he said with a 

smile, " but the distaff; 
Then you would be in truth my queen, my 

beautiful Bertha ! " 

Onward the bridal procession now moved to 

their new habitation, 
Happy husband and wife, and friends convers- 
ing together. 
Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed 

the ford in the forest. 
Pleased with the image that passed, like a 

dream of love through its bosom. 
Tremulous, floating in air, o'er the depths of 

the azure abysses. 
Down through the golden leaves the sun was 

pouring his splendors. 
Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches 

above them suspended. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. 115 

Mingled their odorous breath with the balm 
of the pine and the fir-tree, 

Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in 
the valley of Eshcol. 

Like a picture it seemed of the primitive, pas- 
toral ages, 

Fresh with the youth of the world, and recall- 
ing Rebecca and Isaac, 

Old and yet ever new, and simple and beautiful 
always. 

Love immortal and yoimg in the endless suc- 
cession of lovers. 

So through the Plymouth woods passed onward 
the bridal procession. 



BIEDS OF PASSAGE, 



. . come i gru van cantando lor lai, 
Facendo in aer di ise lunga riga. 

Dante. 



' PROMETHEUS, 

OR THE poet's FORETHOUGHT. 

Of Prometheus, how iindaunted 
On Olympus' shining bastions 
His audacious foot he planted, 
Myths are told and songs are chaunted, 
Full of promptings and suggestions. 

Beautiful is the tradition 

Of that flight through heavenly portals, 
The old classic superstition 
Of the theft and the transmission 

Of the fire of the Immortals ! 

First the deed of noble daring, 
Born of heavenward aspiration, 



120 PROMETHEUS. 

Then the fire with mortals sharing, 
Then the vulture, — the despairing 
Cry of pain on crags Caucasian. 

All is but a symbol painted 

Of the Poet, Prophet, Seer ; 
Only those are crowned and sainted 
Who with grief have been acquainted, 

Making nations nobler, freer. 

In their feverish exultations, 

In their triumph and their yearning, 
In their passionate pulsations. 
In their words among the nations, 
The Promethean fire is burning. 

Shall it, then, be unavailing. 

All this toil for human culture ? 
Through the cloud-rack, dark and trailing, 
Must they see above them sailing 
O'er life's barren crags the vulture ? 



PROMETHEUS. 121 

Such a fate as this was Dante's, 

By defeat and exile maddened ; 
Thus were Milton and Cervantes, 
Nature's priests and Corybantes, 

By affliction touched and saddened. 

But the glories so transcendent 

That around their memories cluster, 
And, on all their steps attendant. 
Make their darkened lives resplendent 
With such gleams of inward lustre ! 

All the melodies mysterious, 

Through the dreary darkness chaunted ; 
Thoughts in attitudes imperious. 
Voices soft, and deep, and serious. 

Words that whispered, songs that haunted ! 

All the soul in rapt suspension, 
All the quivering, palpitating 



122 PROMETHEUS. 

Chords of life in utmost tension, 
With the fervor of invention, 
With the rapture of creating ! 

Ah, Prometheus ! heaven-scaling ! 

In such hours of exultation 
Even the faintest heart, unquailing. 
Might behold the vulture sailing 

Round the cloudy crags Caucasian ! 

Though to all there is not given 

Strength for such sublime endeavor. 
Thus to scale the walls of heaven. 
And to leaven with fiery leaven 
All the hearts of men for ever ; 

Yet all bards, whose hearts unblighted 

Honor and believe the presage. 
Hold aloft their torches lighted. 
Gleaming through the realms benighted, 
As they onward bear the message ! 



123 



THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 



Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said, 
That of our vices we can frame 

A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame ! 

All common things, each day's events, 
That with the hour begin and end. 

Our pleasures and our discontents. 
Are rounds by which we may ascend. 



124 THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 

The low desire, the base design, 
That makes another's virtues less ; 

The revel of the ruddy wine, 
And all occasions of excess ; 

The longing for ignoble things ; 

The strife for triumph more than truth ; 
The hardening of the heart, that brings 

Irreverence for the dreams of youth ; 

All thoughts of ill ; all evil deeds, 

That have their root in thoughts of ill ; 

Whatever hinders or impedes 
The action of the nobler will ; — 

All these must first be trampled down 
Beneath our feet, if we would gain 

In the bright fields of fair renown 
The right of eminent domain. 



THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 125 

We have not wings, we cannot soar ; 

But we have feet to scale and climb 
By slow degrees, by more and more, 

The cloudy summits of our time. 

The mighty pyramids of stone 

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 

When nearer seen, and better known, 
Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 

The distant mountains, that uprear 
Their solid bastions to the skies. 

Are crossed by pathways, that appear 
As we to higher levels rise. 

The heights by great men reached and kept 

Were not attained by sudden flight. 

But they, while their companions slept. 

Were toiling upward in the night. 
11* 



126 THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 

Standing on what too long we bore 

With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, 

We may discern — unseen before — 
A path to higher destinies. 

Nor deem the irrevocable Past, 
As wholly wasted, wholly vain, 

K, rising on its wrecks, at last 
To something nobler we attain. 



127 



THE PHANTOM SHIP. 



In Mather's Magnalia Christi, 

Of the old colonial time, 
May be found in prose the legend 

That is here set down in rhyme. 

A ship sailed from New Haven, 
And the keen and frosty airs. 

That filled her sails at parting. 

Were heavy with good men's prayers. 



128 



THE PHANTOM SHIP. 



" O Lord I if it be thy pleasure " — 
Thus prayed the old divine — 

" To bury our friends in the ocean. 
Take them, for they are thine ! " 

But Master Lamberton muttered, 
And under his breath said he, 

" This ship is so crank and walty 
I fear our grave she will be I " 

And the ships that came from England, 
When the winter months were gone, 

Brought no tidings of this vessel 
Nor of Master Lamberton. 

This put the people to praying 

That the liord would let them hear 

What in his greater wisdom 

He had done with friends so dear. 



THE PHANTOM SHIP. 129 

And at last their prayers were answered : — 

It was in the month of June, 
An hour before the sunset 

Of a windy afternoon, 

When, steadily steering landward, 

A ship was seen below, 
And they knew it was Lamberton, Master, 

Who sailed so long ago. 

On she came, with a cloud of canvas, 
Right against the wind that blew, 

Until the eye could distinguish 
The faces of the crew. 

Then fell her straining topmasts, 
Hanging tangled in the shrouds. 

And her sails were loosened and lifted, 
And blown away like clouds. 



130 



THE PHANTOM SHIP. 



And the masts^ with all their rigging, 

Fell slowly, one by one, 
And the hulk dilated and vanished, 

As a sea-mist in the sun I 

And the people who saw this marvel 

Each said unto his friend, 
That this was the mould of their vessel, 

And thus her tragic end. 

And the pastor of the village 
Gave thanks to God in prayer. 

That, to quiet their troubled spirits. 
He had sent this Ship of Air. 



131 



THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS. 



A MIST was driving down the British Channel, 

The day was just begun, 
And through the window-panes, on floor and 
panel, 

Streamed the red autumn sun. 

It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon, 

And the white sails of ships ; 
And, from the frowning rampart, the black 
cannon 

Hailed it with feverish lips. 



132 THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS. 

Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hithe, and 
Dover 
"Were all alert that day, 
To see the French war-steamers speeding 
over, 
When the fog cleared away. 

Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions. 
Then- cannon, through the night. 

Holding their breath, had watched, in grim 
defiance. 
The sea-coast opposite. 

And now they roared at drum-beat from their 
stations 
On every citadel ; 
Each answering each, with morning saluta- 
tions. 
That all was well. 



THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS. '133 

A.nd down the coast, all taking up the burden, 

Replied the distant forts. 
As if to summon from his sleep the "Warden 

And Lord of the Cinque Ports. 

Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, 

No drum-beat from the wall. 
No morning gun from the black fort's embrasure, 

Awaken with its call ! 

No more, surveying with an eye impartial 

The long line of the coast. 
Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field Marshal 

Be seen upon his post ! 

For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, 

In sombre harness mailed, 
Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, 

The rampart wall has scaled. 

12 



134 THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS. 

He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, 

The dark and silent room, 
And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, 

The silence and the gloom. 

He did not pause to parley or dissemble. 

But smote the Warden hoar ; 
Ah! what a blow! that made all England 
tremble 

And groan from shore to shore. 

Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited, 

The sun rose bright o'erhead ; 
Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated 

That a great man was dead. 



135 



HAUNTED HOUSES. 



All houses wherein men have lived and died 

Are haunted houses. Through the open 

doors 

The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, 

With feet that make no sound upon the 

flobrSc 

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, 
Along the passages they come and go. 

Impalpable impressions on the air, 

A sense of something moving to and fro. 



136 HAUNTED HOUSES. 

There are more guests at table, than the hosts 

Invited ; the illuminated hall 
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, 

As silent as the pictures on the wall. 

The stranger at my fireside cannot see 

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear ; 

He but perceives what is ; while unto me 
AU that has been is visible and clear. 

We have no title-deeds to house or lands ; 

Owners and occupants of earlier dates 
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands. 

And hold in mortmain still their old es- 
tates. 

The spirit-world around this world of sense 
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere 

Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors 
dense 
A vital breath of more ethereal air. 



HAUNTED HOUSES. 137 

Our little lives are kept in equipoise 
By opposite attractions and desires ; 

The struggle of the instinct that enjoys. 
And the more noble instinct that aspires. 

These perturbations, this perpetual jar 
Of earthly wants and aspirations high, 

Come from the influence of an unseen star, 
An undiscovered planet in our sky. 

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud 
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light, 

Across whose trembling planks our fancies 
crowd 
[nto the realm of mystery and night, — 

So from the world of spirits there descends 
A bridge of light, connecting it with this. 

O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and 
bends. 
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss. 

12* 



138 



IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE. 



In the village churchyard she lies, 
Dust is in her beautiful eyes, 

No more she breathes, nor feels, nor stirs ; 
At her feet and at her head 
Lies a slave to attend the dead. 

But their dust is white as hers. 

Was she a lady of high degree. 
So much in love with the vanity 

And foolish pomp of this world of ours ? 



IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE. 139 

Or was it Christian charity, 
And lowliness and humility, 
The richest and rarest of all dowers ? 

Who shall tell us ? No one speaks ; 
No color shoots into those cheeks, 

Either of anger or of pride, 
At the rude question we have asked ; 
Nor will the mystery be unmasked 

By those who are sleeping at her side. 

Hereafter ? — And do you think to look 
On the terrible pages of that Book 

To find her failings, faults, and errors ? 
Ah, you will then have other cares, 
In your own short-comings and despairs, 

In your own secret sins and terrors ! 



140 



THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST. 



Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, 
With his swarthy, grave commanders, 

I forget in what campaign. 

Long besieged, in mud and rain, 
Some old frontier town of Flanders. 

CJp and down the dreary camp. 
In great boots of Spanish leather, 

Striding with a measm-ed tramp, 

These Hidalgos, dull and damp. 

Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. 



THE emperor's BIRD's-NEST. 141 

Thus as to and fro they went, 

Over upland and through hollow, 
Giving their impatience vent, 
Perched upon the Emperor's tent, 
Li her nest, they spied a swallow. 

Yes, it was a swallow's nest. 

Built of clay and hair of horses, 
Mane, or tail, or dragoon's crest. 
Found on hedge-rows east and west, 
After skirmish of the forces. 

Then an old Hidalgo said. 

As he twirled his gray mustachio, 
" Sure this swallow overhead 
Thinks the Emperor's tent a shed. 
And the Emperor but a Macho ! " 

Hearing his imperial name 

Coupled with those words of malice, 



142 THE emperor's bird's-nest. 

Half in anger, half in shame. 
Forth the great campaigner came 
Slowly from his canvas palace. 

" Let no hand the bird molest," 
Said he solemnly, " nor hurt her! " 

Adding then, by way of jest, 

" Golondrina is my guest, 

'T is the wife of some deserter ! " 

Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, 

Through the camp was spread the rumor, 

And the soldiers, as they quaffed 

Flemish beer at dinner, laughed 
At the Emperor's pleasant humor. 

So unharmed and unafraid 

Sat the swallow still and brooded. 
Till the constant cannonade 
Through the walls a breach had made, 
And the siege was thus concluded. 



THE EMPEROR'S BIRD's-NEST. 143 

Then the army, elsewhere bent, 
Struck its tents as if disbanding, 

Only not the Emperor's tent. 

For he ordered, ere he went. 

Very curtly, " Leave it standing ! " 

So it stood there all alone. 

Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, 
Till the brood was fledged and flown, 
Singing o'er those walls of stone 

Which the cannon-shot had shattered. 



144 



THE TWO ANGELS. 



Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, 
Passed o'er our village as the morning broke ; 

The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, 
The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of 
smoke. 

Their attitude and aspect were the same. 
Alike their features and their robes of white ; 

But one was crowned with amaranth, as with 
flame. 
And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. 



THE TWO ANGELS. 145 

I saw them pause on their celestial way; 

Then said I, with deep fear and doubt op- 
pressed, 
" Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray 

The place where thy beloved are at rest ! " 

And he who wore the crown of asphodels, 
Descending, at my door began to knock, 

And my soul sank within me, as in wells 
The waters sink before an earthquake's shock. 

I recognized the nameless agony, 

The terror and the tremor and the pain, 

That oft before had filled or haunted me. 
And now returned with threefold strength 
again. 

The door I opened to my heavenly guest. 
And listened, for I thought I heard God's 
voice ; 

1.3 



146 THE TWO ANGELS. 

And, knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best. 
Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. 

Then with a smile, that filled the house with 
light, 

" My errand is not Death, but Life," he said ; 
And ere I answered, passing out of sight, 

On his celestial embassy he sped. 

'T was at thy door, O friend ! and not at mine, 
The angel with the amaranthine wreath, 

Pausing, descended, and with voice divine, 
Whispered a word that had a sound like 
Death. 

Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, 
A shadow on those features fair and thin ; 

And softly, from that hushed and darkened 
room. 
Two angels issued, where but one went in. 



THE TWO ANGELS. 147 

All is of God I If he but wave his hand, 



The mists collect, the rain falls thick and 
loud, 
Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 
Lo I he looks back from the departing cloud. 

Angels of Life and Death alike are his ; 

Without his leave they pass no threshold 
o'er ; 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this. 

Against his messengers to shut the door? 



148 



DAYLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT. 



In broad daylight, and at noon, 
Yesterday I saw the moon 
Sailing high, but faint and white, 
As a school-boy's paper kite. 

In broad daylight, yesterday, 
I read a Poet's mystic lay ; 
And it seemed to me at most 
As a phantom, or a ghost. 



DAYLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT. 149 

But at length the feverish day- 
Like a passion died away, 
And the night, serene and still, 
Fell on village, vale, and hill. 

Then the moon, in all her pride, 
Like a spirit glorified, 
Filled and overflowed the night 
With revelations of her light. 

And the Poet^s song again 
Passed like music through my brain ; 
Night interpreted to me 
All its grace and mystery. 



13* 



150 



THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT. 



How strange it seems I These Hebrews in 
their graves, 

Close by the street of this fair seaport town, 
Silent beside the never-silent waves. 

At rest in all this moving up and down ! 

The trees are white with dust, that o'er theii 
sleep 
Wave their broad curtains in the south- 
wind's breath, 
While underneath such leafy tents they keep 
The long, mysterious Exodus of Death. 



THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT. 151 

And these sepulchral stones, so old and brown, 
That pave with level flags their burial-place, 

Seem like the tablets of the Law, thrown down 
And broken by Moses at the mountain'^ 
base. 

The very names recorded here are strange. 
Of foreign accent, and of different climes ; 

Alvares and Rivera interchange 

With Abraham and Jacob of old times. 

" Blessed be God ! for he created Death ! " 
The mourners said, " and Death is rest and 
peace " ; 
Then added, in the certainty of faith, 

" And giveth Life that never more shall 
cease." 

Closed are the portals of their Synagogue, 
No Psalms of David now the silence break. 



cMi4^'- 



152 THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT. 

No Rabbi reads the ancient Decalogue 
In the grand dialect the Prophets spake. 

Gone are the living, but the dead remain, 
And not neglected ; for a hand unseen, 

Scattering its bounty, like a summer rain. 
Still keeps their graves and their remem- 
brance green. 

How came they here ? What burst of Chris- 
tian hate. 

What persecution, merciless and blind, 
Drove o'er the sea — that desert desolate — 

These Ishmaels and Hagars of mankind? 

They lived in narrow streets and lanes ob- 
scure. 

Ghetto and Judenstrass, in mirk and mire ; 
Taught in the school of patience to endure 

The life of anguish and the death of fire. 



THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT. 153 

All their lives long, with the unleavened bread 
And bitter herbs of exile and its fears, 

The wasting famine of the heart they fed. 
And slaked its thirst with marah of their tears. 

Anathema maranatha! was the cry- 
That rang from town to town, from street to 
street ; 
At every gate the accursed Mordecai 

Was mocked and jeered, and spurned by 
Christian feet. 

Pride and humiliation hand in hand 

Walked with them through the world wher- 
e'er they went ; 

Trampled and beaten were they as the sand, 
And yet unshaken as the continent. 

For in the background figures vague and vast 
Of patriarchs and of prophets rose sublime, 



154 THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT. 

And all the great traditions of the Past 
They saw reflected in the coming time. 

And thus for ever with reverted look 

The mystic volume of the world they read, 

Spelling it backward, like a Hebrew book, 
Till life became a Legend of the Dead. 

But ah ! what once has been shall be no more ! 

The groaning earth in travail and in pain 
Brings forth its races, but does not restore, 

And the dead nations never rise again. 



155 



OLIVER BASSELIN. 



In the "Valley of the Vire 

Still is seen an ancient mill, 

With its gables quaint and queer, 

And beneath the window-sill. 

On the stone. 

These words alone : 

" Oliver Basselin lived here." 

Far above it, on the steep, 

E-uined stands the old Chateau; 

Nothing but the donjon-keep 
Left for shelter or for show. 



156 OLIVER BASSELIN. 

Its vacant eyes 
Stare at the skies, 
Stare at the valley green and deep. 

Once a convent, old and brown, 

Looked, but ah ! it looks no more, 
From the neighboring hillside down 
On the rushing and the roar 
Of the stream 
Whose sunny gleam 
Cheers the little Norman town. 

In that darksome mill of stone, 
To the water's dash and din. 
Careless, humble, and unknown. 
Sang the poet Basselin 
Songs that fill 
That ancient mill 
With a splendor of its own. 



OLIVER BASSELIN. 157 

Never feeling of unrest 

Broke the pleasant dream he dreamed ; 
Only made to be his nest, 
All the lovely valley seemed ; 
No desire 
Of soaring higher 
Stirred or fluttered in his breast. 

True, his songs were not divine ; 

Were not songs of that high art, 
Which, as winds do in the pine. 
Find an answer in each heart ; 
But the mirth 
Of this green earth 
Laughed and revelled in his line. 

From the alehouse and the inn. 

Opening on the narrow street, 
Came the loud, convivial din. 

Singing and applause of feet, 

14 



158 OLIVER BASSELIN. 

The laughing lays 
That in those days 
Sang the poet Basselin. 

In the castle, cased in steel, 

Knights, who fought at Agincourt, 
Watched and waited, spur on heel ; 
But the poet sang for sport 
Songs that rang 
Another clang, 
Songs that lowlier hearts could feel. 

Tn the convent, clad in gray, 

Sat the monks in lonely cells, 
P^ced the cloisters, knelt to pray, 
And the poet heard their bells ; 
But his rhymes 
Found other chimes, 
Nearer to the earth than they. 



OLIVER BASSELIN. 159 

Gone are all the barons bold, 



Gone are all the knights and squires, 
Gone the abbot stern and cold, 
And the brotherhood of friars ; 
Not a name 
Remains to fame, 
From those mouldering days of old ! 

But the poet's memory here 

Of the landscape makes a part ; 
Like the river, swift and clear. 

Flows his song through many a heart ; 
Haunting still 
That ancient mill, 
En the Valley of the Vire. 



160 



VICTOR GALBRAITH. 



Under the walls of Monterey 

At daybreak the bugles began to play, 

Victor Galbraith! 
In the mist of the morning damp and gray, 
These were the words they seemed to say : 
" Come forth to thy death, 

Victor Galbraith!" 

Forth he came, with a martial tread ; 
Firm was his step, erect his head ; 
Victor Galbraith, 



VICTOR GALBRAITH. 161 

He who so well the bugle played, 
Could not mistake the words it said : 
" Come forth to thy death, 
Victor Galbraith I " 

He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky, 
He looked at the files of musketry, 

Victor Galbraith! 
And he said, with a steady voice and eye, 
" Take good aim ; I am ready to die !" 

Thus challenges death 

Victor Galbraith. 



Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red, 
Six leaden balls on their errand sped ; 

Victor Galbraith 
Falls to the ground, but he is not dead ; 
His name was not stamped on those balls of 
lead. 

And they only scath 

Victor Galbraith. 

14# 



162 VICTOR GALBRAITH. 

Three balls are in his breast and brain, 
But he rises out of the dust again, 

Victor Galbraith! 
The water he drinks has a bloody stain ; 
" O kill me, and put me out of my pain ! " 

In his agony prayeth 

Victor Galbraith. 

Forth dart once more those tongues of 

flame. 
And the bugler has died a death of shame, 

Victor Galbraith! 
His soul has gone back to whence it came, 
And no one answers to the name. 

When the Sergeant saith, 

"Victor Galbraith!" 

Under the walls of Monterey 
By night a bugle is heard to play, 
Victor Galbraith! 



VICTOR GALBRAITH. 163 

Through the mist of the valley damp and gray 
The sentinels hear the sound, and say, 

" That is the wraith 

Of Victor Galbraith I " 



164 



MY LOST YOUTH. 



Often I think of the beautiful town 

That is seated by the sea ; 
Often in thought go up and down 
The pleasant streets of that dear old town, 
And my youth comes back to me. 
And a verse of a Lapland song 
Is haunting my memory still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 



MY LOST YOUTH. 165 

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, 

And catch, in sudden gleams, 
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, 
And islands that were the Hesperides 
Of all my boyish dreams. 

And the burden of that old song, 
It murmurs and whispers still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 

I remember the black wharves and the slips, 

And the sea-tides tossing free ; 
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, 
And the beauty and mystery of the ships, 
And the magic of the sea. 

And the voice of that wayward song 
Is singing and saying still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 



166 BIY LOST YOUTH. 

I remember the bulwarks by the shore, 

And the fort upon the hill ; 
The sun-rise gun, with its hollow roar. 
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er. 
And the bugle wild and shrill. 
And the music of that old song 
Throbs in my memory still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 

I remember the sea-fight far away, 
How it thundered o'er the tide ! 
And the dead captains, as they lay 
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, 
Where they in battle died. 

x\nd the sound of that mournful song 
Goes through me with a thrill : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 



MY LOST YOUTH. 167 

I can see the breezy dome of groves, 
The shadows of Deering's Woods ; 
And the friendships old and the early loves 
Come back with a sabbath sound, as of doves 
In quiet neighborhoods. 

And the verse of that sweet old song, 
It flutters and murmurs still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 

I remember the gleams and glooms that dart 

Across the schoolboy's brain ; 
The song and the silence in the heart. 
That in part are prophecies, and in part 
Are longings wild and vain. 

And the voice of that fitful song 
Sings on, and is never still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 



168 MY LOST YOUTH. 

There are things of which I may not speak ; 

There are dreams that cannot die ; 
There are thoughts that make the strong heart 

weak, 
And bring a pallor into the cheek, 
And a mist before the eye. 

And the words of that fatal song 
Come over me like a chill : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 

Strange to me now are the forms I meet 

When I visit the dear old town ; 
But the native air is pure and sweet. 
And the trees that o'ershadow each well- 
known street. 
As they balance up and down. 
Are singing the beautiful song, 
Are sighing and whispering still : 



MY LOST yOUTH. 169 

" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, 

And with joy that is almost pain 
My heart goes back to wander there, 
And among the dreams of the days that were, 
I find my lost youth again. 

And the strange and beautiful song. 
The groves are repeating it still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts." 



15 



170 



THE ROPEWALK. 



In that building, long and low, 
With its windows all a-row, 

Like the port-holes of a hulk. 
Human spiders spin and spin. 
Backward down their threads so thin 

Dropping, each a hempen bulk. 

At the end, an open door ; 
Squares of sunshine on the floor 

Light the long and dusky lane ; 
And the whirring of a wheel. 
Dull and drowsy, makes me feel 

All its spokes are in my brain. 



THE ROPEWALK. 171 

As the spinners to the end 
Downward go and reascend, 

Gleam the long threads in the sun ; 
While within this brain of mine 
Cobwebs brisfhter and more fine 

o 

By the busy wheel are spun. 

Two fair maidens in a swing, 
Like white doves upon the wing. 

First before my vision pass ; 
Laughing, as their gentle hands 
Closely clasp the twisted strands, 

At their shadow on the grass. 

Then a booth of mountebanks, 
With its smell of tan and planks, 

And a girl poised high in air 
On a cord, in spangled dress, 
With a faded loveliness, 

And a weary look of care. 



172 THE ROPEWALK. 

Then a homestead among farms, 
And a woman with bare arms 

Drawing water from a well ; 
As the bucket mounts apace, 
With it mounts her own fair face, 

As at some magician's spell. 

Then an old man in a tower, 
E-inging loud the noontide hour. 

While the rope coils round and round 
Like a serpent at his feet. 
And again, in swift retreat. 

Nearly lifts him from the ground. 

Then within a prison-yard. 
Faces fixed, and stern, and hard, 

Laughter and indecent mirth ; 
Ah I it is the gallows-tree ! 
Breath of Christian charity, 

Blow, and sweep it from the earth ! 



THE ROPEWALK. 173 

Then a school-boy, with his kite 
Gleaming in a sky of light, 

And an eager, upward look ; 
Steeds pursued through lane and field ; 
Fowlers with their snares concealed ; 

And an angler by a brook. 

Ships rejoicing in the breeze, 
"Wrecks that float o'er unknown seas, 

Anchors dragged through faithless sand ; 
Sea-fog drifting overhead, 
And, with lessening line and lead, 

Sailors feeling for the land. 

All these scenes do I behold, 
These, and many left untold. 

In that building long and low ; 
While the wheel goes round and round, 
With a drowsy, dreamy sound. 

And the spinners backward go. 

15^ 



174 



THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE. 



Leafless are the trees ; their purple branches 
Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral, 

Rising silent 
In the Red Sea of the Winter sunset. 



From the hundred chimneys of the village, 
Like the Afreet in the Arabian story, 

Smoky columns 
Tower aloft into the air of amber. 



THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE. 175 

At the window winks the flickering fire-light ; 
Here and there the lamps of evening glimmer, 

Social watch-fires 
Answering one another through the darkness. 

On the hearth the lighted logs are glowing, 
And like Ariel in the cloven pine-tree 

For its freedom 
Groans and sighs the air imprisoned in them. 

By the fireside there are old men seated, 
Seeing ruined cities in the ashes, 

Asking sadly 
Of the Past what it can ne'er restore them. 

By the fireside there are youthful dreamers. 
Building castles fair, with stately stairways, 

Asking blindly 
Of the Future what it cannot give them. 



176 THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE. 

By the fireside tragedies are acted 

In whose scenes appear two actors only, 

Wife and husband, 
And above them God the sole spectator. 

By the fireside there are peace and comfort. 
Wives and children, with fair, thoughtful faces. 

Waiting, watching 
For a well-known footstep in the passage. 

Each man^s chimney is his Golden Mile-stone ; 
Is the central point, from which he measures 

Every distance 
Through the gateways of the world around him. 

In his farthest wanderings still he sees it ; 
Hears the talking Hame, the answering night- 
wind. 
As he heard them 
When he sat with those who were, but are not. 



THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE. 177 

Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion, 
Nor the march of the encroaching city, 

Drives an exile 
From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. 

We may build more splendid habitations. 
Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculp- 
tures, 
But we cannot 
Buy with gold the old associations I 



178 



CATAWBA WINE. 



This song of mine 
Is a Song of the Vine, 

To be sung by the glowing embers 
Of wayside inns, 
When the rain begins 

To darken the drear Novembers. 

It is not a song 

Of the Scuppernong, 
From warm Carolinian valleys, 

Nor the Isabel 

And the Muscadel 
That bask in our garden alleys. 



CATAWBA WINE. 



179 



Nor the red Mustang, 

Whose clusters hang 
O'er the waves of the Colorado, 

And the fiery flood 

Of whose purple blood 
Has a dash of Spanish bravado. 

For richest and best 

Is the wine of the West, 
That grows by the Beautiful River ; 

Whose sweet perfume 

Fills all the room 
With a benison on the giver. 

And as hollow trees 

Are the haunts of bees, 
For ever going and coming ; 

So this crystal hive 

Is all alive 
With a swarming and buzzing and humming. 



180 CATAWBA WINE. 

Very good in its way 

Is the Verzenay, 
Or the Sillery soft and creamy ; 

But Catawba wine 

Has a taste more divine, 
More dulcet, delicious, and dreamy. 

There grows no vine 

By the haunted Rhine, 
By Danube or Guadalquivir, 

Nor on island or cape. 

That bears such a grape 
As grows by the Beautiful River. 

Drugged is their juice 

For foreign use, 
When shipped o'er the reeling Atlantic, 

To rack our brains 

With the fever pains. 
That have driven the Old World frantic. 



CATAWBA WINE. 181 

To the sewers and sinks 

"With all such drinks, 
And after them tumble the mixer ; 

For a poison malign 

Is such Borgia wine, 
Or at best but a Devil's Elixir. * 

While pure as a spring 

Is the wine I sing, 
And to praise it, one needs but name it; 

For Catawba wine 

Has need of no sign, 
No tavern-bush to proclaim it. 

And this Song of the Vine, 

This greeting of mine, 
The winds and the birds shall deliver 

To the Queen of the West, 

In her garlands dressed, 
On the banks of the Beautiful River. 

16 



182 



j^ SANTA FILOMENA 



"Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, 

Our hearts, in glad surprise, 

To higher levels rise. 

The tidal wave of deeper souls 

Into our inmost being rolls. 
And lifts us unawares 
Out of all meaner cares. 



SANTA FILOMENA. 183 

Honor to those whose words or deeds 
Thus help us in our daily needs, 
And by their overflow 
Raise us from what is low! 

Thus thought I, as by night I read 

Of the great army of the dead, 
The trenches cold and damp. 
The starved and frozen camp, — 

The wounded from the battle-plain, 
In dreary hospitals of pain, 

The cheerless corridors. 

The cold and stony floors. 

Lo ! in that house of misery 

A lady with a lamp I see 

Pass through the glimmering gloom. 
And flit from room to room. 



184 SANTA FILOMENA. 

And slow, as in a dream of bliss, 
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss 
Her shadow, as it falls 
Upon the darkening walls. 

As if a door in heaven should be 
Opened and then closed suddenly, 
The vision came and went. 
The light shone and was spent. 

On England's annals, through the long 
Hereafter of her speech and song, 
That light its rays shall cast 
From portals of the past. 

A Lady with a Lamp shall stand 
In the great history of the land, 

A noble type of good, 

Heroic womanhood. 



SANTA FILOMENA. 185 

Nor even shall be wanting here 
The palm, the lily, and the spear, 

The symbols that of yore 

Saint Filomena bore. 



16* 



186 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 

A LEAF FROM KING ALFRED'S OROSIUS. 

Othere, the old sea-captain, 

Who dwelt in Helgoland, 
To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth, 
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth. 

Which he held in his brown right hand. 

His figure was tall and stately, 
Like a boy's his eye appeared ; 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 187 

His hair was yellow as hay, 
But threads of a silvery gray 
Gleamed in his tawny beard. 

Hearty and hale was Othere, 
His cheek had the color of oak ; 

With a kind of laugh in his speech, 

Like the sea-tide on a beach. 
As unto the King he spoke. 

And Alfred, King of the Saxons, 

Had a book upon his knees, 
And wrote down the wondrous tale 
Of him who was first to sail 

Into the Arctic seas. 

" So far I live to the northward, 

No man lives north of me ; 
To the east are wild mountain-chains, 
And beyond them meres and plains ; 

To the westward all is sea. 



188 THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE, 

" So far I live to the northward, 

From the harbor of Skeringes-hale, 
If you only sailed by day, 
With a fair wind all the way. 

More than a month would you saiL 

" I own six hundred reindeer, 

With sheep and swine beside ; 
I have tribute from the Finns, 
Whalebone and reindeer-skins, 
And ropes of walrus-hide. 

" I ploughed the land with horses, 
But my heart was ill at ease, 

For the old seafaring men 

Came to me now and then, 

With their sagas of the seas ; — • 

'* Of Iceland and of Greenland, 
And the stormy Hebrides, 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 189 

And the undiscovered deep ; — 
I could not eat nor sleep 
For thinldng of those seas. 

" To the northward stretched the desert, 

How far I fain would know ; 
So at last I sallied forth, 
And three days sailed due north, 

As far as the whale-ships go. 

" To the west of me was the ocean, 
To the right the desolate shore, 

But I did not slacken sail 

For the walrus or the whale. 
Till after three days more. 

" The days grew longer and longer, 

Till they became as one. 
And southward through the haze 
I saw the sullen blaze 

Of the red midnight sun. 



190 THE DISCOVEEER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 

" And then uprose before me, 

Upon the water's edge, 
The huge and haggard shape 
Of that unknown North Cape, 

Whose form is hke a wedge. 

" The sea was rough and stormy, 
The tempest howled and wailed, 

And the sea-fog, like a ghost. 

Haunted that dreary coast. 
But onward still I sailed. 

" Four days I steered to eastward, 

Four days without a night : 
Round in a fiery ring 
Went the great sun, O King, 
With red and lurid light." 

Here Alfred, King of the Saxons, 
Ceased writing for a while ; 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 191 

And raised his eyes from his book, 
With a strange and puzzled look, 
And an incredulous smile. 

But Othere, the old sea-captain, 

He neither paused nor stirred. 
Till the King listened, and then 
Once more took up his pen. 

And WTote down every word. 

" And now the land," said Othere, 

" Bent southward suddenly. 
And I followed the curving shore 
And ever southward bore 

Into a nameless sea. 

" And there we hunted the walrus, 

The narwhale, and the seal ; 
Ha! 'twas a noble game! 
And like the lightning's flame 

Flew our harpoons of steel. 



192 THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 

" There were six of us all together, 

Norsemen of Helgoland ; 
In two days and no more 
We killed of them threescore, 

And dragged them to the strand ! " 

Here Alfred the Truth-Teller 
Suddenly closed his book. 
And lifted his blue eyes. 
With doubt and strange surmise 
Depicted in their look. 

And Othere the old sea-captain 

Stared at him wild and weird, 
Then smiled, till his shining teeth 
Gleamed white from underneath 
His tawny, quivering beard. 

And to the King of the Saxons, 
In witness of the truth, 



THE DISCOVEKEli OF THE NORTH CAPE. 193 

Raising his noble head, 
He stretched his brown hand, and said, 
" Behold this walrus-tooth ! " 



17 



194 



DAYBREAK. 



A WIND came up out of the sea, 

And said, " O mists, make room for me." 

It hailed the ships, and cried, " Sail on, 
Ye mariners, the night is gone." 

And hurried landward far away, 
Crying, " Awake ! it is the day." 

It said unto the forest, " Shout ! 
Hang all your leafy banners out I " 



DAYBREAK. 195 



It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, 
And said, " O bird, awake and sing." 



And o'er the farms, " O chanticleer. 
Your clarion blow ; the day is near." 

It whispered to the fields of corn, 

" Bow down, and hail the coming morn." 

It shouted through the belfry-tower, 
" Awake, O bell ! proclaim the hour." 

It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, 
And said, " Not yet I in quiet lie." 



196 



THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ. 

May 28, 1857. 

It was fifty years ago 

In the pleasant month of May, 
In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, 

A child in its cradle lay. 

And Nature, the old nurse, took 
The child upon her knee, 

Saying : " Here is a story-book 
Thy Father has written for thee." 



THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ. 197 

^' Come, wander with me," she said, 

" Into regions yet untrod ; 
And read what is still unread 

In the manuscripts of God." 

And he wandered away and away 
"With Nature, the dear old nurse, 

Who sang to him night and day 
The rhymes of the universe. 

And whenever the way seemed long, 

Or his heart began to fail, 
She would sing a more wonderful song, 

Or tell a more marvellous tale. 

So she keeps him still a child, 

And will not let him go, 
Though at times his heart beats wild 

For the beautiful Pays de Vaud ; 

17* 



198 THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ. 

Though at times he hears in his dreams 
The Ranz des Vaches oT old, 

And the rush of mountain streams 
From glaciers clear and cold ; 

And the mother at home says, " Hark ! 

For his voice I listen and yearn ; 
It is growing late and dark. 

And my boy does not return ! " 



199 



CHILDREN. 



Come to me, O ye children ! 

For I hear you at your play, 
And the questions that perplexed me 

Have vanished quite away. 

Ye open the eastern windows, 
That look towards the sun, 

Where thoughts are singing swallows 
And the brooks of morning run. 



200 



CHILDREN. 



In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, 
In your thoughts the brooklet's flow, 

But in mine is the wind of Autumn 
And the first fall of the snow. 

Ah ! what would the world be to us 

If the children were no more ? 
We should dread the desert behind us 

Worse than the dark before. 

What the leaves are to the forest, 

With light and air for food, 
Ere their sweet and tender juices 

Have been hardened into wood, — 

That to the world are children ; 

Through them it feels the glow 
Of a brighter and sunnier climate 

Than reaches the trunks below. 



CHILDREN. 201 

Come to me, O ye children ! 

And whisper in my ear 
What the birds and the winds are singing 

In your sunny atmosphere. 

For what are all our contrivings, 
And the wisdom of our books, 

When compared with your caresses, 
And the gladness of your looks ? 

Ye are better than all the ballads 

That ever were sung or said ; 
For ye are living poems, 

And all the rest are dead. 



202 



SANDALPHON. 



Have you read in the Talmud of old, 
In the Legends the Rabbins have told 

Of the limitless realms of the air, — 
Have you read it, — the marvellous story 
Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, 

Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer ? 

How, erect, at the outermost gates 
Of the City Celestial he waits, 

"With his feet on the ladder of light, 
That, crowded with angels unnumbered, 
By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered 

Alone in the desert at night ? 



SANDALPHON. 203 

The Angels of "Wind and of Fire 
Chaunt only one hymn, and expire 

With the song's irresistible stress ; 
Expire in their rapture and wonder, 
As harp-strings are broken asunder 

By music they throb to express. 

But serene in the rapturous throng, 
Unmoved by the rush of the song, 

With eyes unimpassioned and slow, 
Among the dead angels, the deathless 
Sandalphon stands listening breathless 

To sounds that ascend from below ; — 

From the spirits on earth that adore, 
From the souls that entreat and implore 

In the fervor and passion of prayer ; 
From the hearts that are broken with losses, 
And weary with dragging the crosses 

Too heavy for mortals to bear. 



204 SANDALPHON. 

And he gathers the prayers as he stands, 
And they change into flowers in his hands, 

Into garlands of purple and red ; 
And beneath the great arch of the portal, 
Through the streets of the City Immortal 

Is wafted the fragrance they shed. 

It is but a legend, I know, — 
A fable, a phantom, a show, 

Of the ancient Rabbinical lore ; 
Yet the old mediaeval tradition, 
The beautiful, strange superstition, 

But haunts me and holds me the more. 

When I look from my window at night. 
And the welkin above is all white. 

All throbbing and panting with stars. 
Among them majestic is standing 
Sandalphon the angel, expanding 

His pinions in nebulous bars. 



SANDALPHON. 205 

And the legend, I feel, is a part 

Of the hunger and thh'st of the heart, 

The frenzy and fire of the brain. 
That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, 
The golden pomegranates of Eden, 

To quiet its fever and pain. 



18 



206 



EPIMETHEUS, 

OR THE poet's AFTERTHOUGHT. 

Have I dreamed ? or was it real, 

What I saw as in a vision, 
When to marches hymeneal 
In the land of the Ideal 

Moved my thought o'er Fields Elysian? 

What ! are these the guests whose glances 
Seemed like sunshine gleaming round me ? 

These the wild, bewildering fancies, 

That with dithyrambic dances 
As with magic circles bound me ? 

Ah ! how cold are their caresses ! 
Pallid cheeks, and haggard bosoms I 



EPIMETHEXJS. 207 

Spectral gleam their snow-white dresses, 
And from loose, dishevelled tresses 
Fall the hyacinthine blossoms ! 

my songs ! whose winsome measures 
Filled my heart with secret rapture ! 

Children of my golden leisures ! 

Must even your delights and pleasures 
Fade and perish with the capture ? 

Fair they seemed, those songs sonorous, 

When they came to me unbidden ; 
Voices single, and in chorus. 
Like the wild birds singing o'er us 
In the dark of branches hidden. 

Disenchantment ! Disillusion ! 

Must each noble aspiration 
Come at last to this conclusion, 
Jarring discord, wild confusion, 

Lassitude, renunciation ? 



208 EPIBIETHEUS. 

Not with steeper fall nor faster, 
From the sun's serene dominions, 

Not through brighter realms nor vaster, 

In swift ruin and disaster, 

Icarus fell with shattered pinions ! 

Sweet Pandora ! dear Pandora ! 

Why did mighty Jove create thee 
Coy as Thetis, fair as Flora, 
Beautiful as young Aurora, 

If to win thee is to hate thee ? 

No, not hate thee ! for this feeling 
Of unrest and long resistance 

Is but passionate appealing, 

A prophetic whisper stealing 
O'er the chords of our existence. 

Him whom thou dost once enamour, 
Thou, beloved, never leavest ; 



EPIMETHEUS. 209 

In life's discord, strife, and clamor, 
Still lie feels thy spell of glamour ; 
Him of Hope thou ne'er bereavest. 

Weary hearts by thee are lifted. 

Struggling souls by thee are strengthened, 
Clouds of fear asunder rifted, 
Truth from falsehood cleansed and sifted. 

Lives, like days in summer, lengthened ! 

Therefore art thou ever dearer, 

O my Sibyl, my deceiver ! 
For thou makest each mystery clearer, 
And the unattained seems nearer. 

When thou fillest my heart with fever ! 

Muse of all the Gifts and Graces ! 

Though the fields around us wither, 
There are ampler realms and spaces. 
Where no foot has left its traces : 

Let us turn and wander thither ! 

18* 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



Page 123. That of our vices ice can frame 

A ladder. 
The words of St. Augustine are, " De vitils nostris 
scalam nobis facimus, si vitia ipsa calcamus." 

Sermon III. De Ascensione. 

Page 127. The Phantom Ship. 

A detailed account of this " apparition of a Ship in 
the Air" is given by Cotton Mather in his Magnalia 
Christi, Book I. Ch. YI. It is contained in a letter from 
the Hev. James Pierpont, Pastor of New Haven. To this 
account Mather adds these words : — 

" Eeader, there being yet living so many credible gen- 
tleqien, that were eyewitnesses of this wonderful thing, 
I venture to publish it for a thing as undoubted as 't is 
wonderful." 



214 NOTES. 

Page 141. And the Emj^eror hut a Maclw. 

Macho, in Spanish, signifies a mule. Golondrina is the 
feminine form of Golondiino, a swallow, and also a cant 
name for a deserter. 

Page 155. Oliver Basselin. 

Oliver Basselin, the " Pere joyeux dii Vaudeville" 
llom-ished in the fifteenth century, and gave to his con- 
vivial songs the name of his native valleys, in which he 
sang them, Vaux-de-Vire. This name was afi^erwards 
corrupted into the modern Vaudeville. 

Page 160. A'ictok Galbraith. 

This pofem is founded on fact. Victor Galbraith was a 
bugler in a company of volunteer cavalry ; and was shot 
in Mexico for some breach of disciphne. It is a common 
superstition among soldiers, that no balls will kill them 
unless their names are written on them. The old prov- 
erb says, "Every bullet has its billet." 

Page 166. I rememher the sea-Jight far away. 
This was the engagement between the Enterprise and 
Boxer, off the harbor of Portland, in which both captains 



NOTES. 215 

were slain. They ivere buried side by side, in the cem- 
etery on Mountjoy. 

Page 182. Santa Filomena. 

" At Pisa the church of San Francisco contains a 
chapel dedicated lately to Santa Filomena ; over the altar 
is a picture, by Sabatelli, representing the Saint as a 
beautiful, nymph-like figure, floating down from heaven, 
attended by two angels bearing the lily, palm, and jave- 
lin, and beneath, in the foreground, the sick and maimed, 
who are healed by her intercession." — Mrs. Jameson, 
Sacred and Legendary Art, II. 298. 



THE END. 



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(( (( 


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by TiCKNOR AND FlELDS. 9 

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